Between the end and the epilogue
by Hedwig'sOwl
Summary: Harry is still suffering after the end of the war and with a new dark lord rising in the wizarding world, he must decide what risks are worth taking to save his family. Time travel story. Rated T which I hope is appropriate. Story retelling using memories
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Very, very sorry I just disappeared but it has been one thing after another these days and I've only been able to return to this story now. Hopefully it won't take another two months to update. I know I had chapter 1 finished but I changed the second half of it so if you don't mind re-reading it that would be fan-dabi-dozzy. Thanks for the reviews, really appreciate them. Also to **obsessive360** thanks for the info and I've changed it. I keep forgetting that it's Sirius who has the blue eyes and Remus who has amber. Oh well. Apologies for the bad writing, I always find it really difficult to do re-writes without returning to the older version which I have a lot so hopefully it makes sense

Oh, I am not J.K Rowling so I don't own Harry potter or any of the characters, this is purely for my entertainment. :D

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><p><strong>Chapter 1:<strong>

Night fell; the full moon rising high over the ancient mountains bathing the land in eerie light. Wood and rock, things born of fire and darkness stood firm in the turbulent wind and the cry of the wolf claimed the empty land; the towering trees appearing to bend to his every call.

Then there was silence and nothing but the echoing of footsteps on the concrete ground.

"Sleep well, Moony." Harry whispered into the night, the call of the wind his only response.

Tipping his head back, Harry drank the remains of his firewhiskey and swallowed with difficulty, the burning in his throat owing nothing to the strong liquid. Taking one last look at the full moon, Harry turned back to the door, the warmth of his home easing some of the chill that had settled around his heart.

Walking into the spacious lounge of his estate, Harry turned and settled himself before the grand piano that occupied the room. Candlelight flickered in the darkness and the wood burning in the fire cracked and popped, lulling him into a easy trance. Memories of his youth flashed before his eyes; a small child with messy black hair hiding in the music room of his school, avoiding his cousin and his gang of bullies who were enjoying their usual game of "Harry-hunting." It was some of the happiest memories of his childhood before he had entered Hogwarts and the world of magic. After his eleventh birthday, he had not touched the instrument again until after the war - buying it in the hope that one day he could look back on those years with something more than anger.

Harry stretched his neck from side to side, trying to relieve some of the tension that had settled across his shoulders as he lifted his hands and placed them on the smooth keys. He paused a moment not even sure of what to play before a small smile tugged at his mouth, the words of his mentor echoing in his mind.

"_Ah, music, a magic beyond all we do here!"_

Harry lifted his gaze to the picture that sat on the piano and his eyes burned with unshed tears. He watched his parents, his godfather, his teacher and his mentor smiling and waving to him from a happier time. _His family_.

Harry felt his heart clenched at the sight; regret and loss flooding him in a wave of pain. As if bewitched, Harry began playing without thought, his voice joining in after a moment; the soft melody soothing his aching soul as if hearing phoenix song once more. Harry sung with every emotion that he had, trying to tell them everything he didn't in life; that he loved them, that he was sorry and that he would never forget them no matter what happened in his life. After the war, the loss of Sirius, Dumbledore, Remus, Tonks, Fred, Mad-eye, Dobby and Hedwig had come crashing down on him, crippling him with the pain. As a child he had time to mourn his parents, years to accept their deaths but with the war surrounding him he never had the chance to fully accept the absence of the only family he had known until it was over, until there was peace. And then it had devastated him and for one blinding moment he had wished he had never returned to life, he wished with all his heart that he had stayed with Dumbledore, that he had taken the train to be with his family once more.

In time he had dealt with the hand that was given to him and had moved on but he never forgot. He doubted that he ever would. He forced himself to live when they couldn't, to laugh, to be happy even when there were many times he wanted nothing more than to join them again. But he fought because that was who he was. He used whatever Gryffindor courage that remained in him to live. _For them._ For his family and friends and the little boy who never knew his parents.

Harry's hands stopped moving as the song came to an end leaving the all too familiar weight in his heart.

The silence was deafening.

Taking off his glasses, Harry rubbed his burning eyes between his thumb and forefinger trying to regain his self-control.

"Harry?"

Harry turned at the soft voice and saw his four year old godson standing in the doorway, his blue stripped pyjamas haphazard from sleep and sporting bright pink hair. He had his hair that colour often since he had learned bubblegum pink was his mother's favourite.

"Hey little man," Harry replied, trying to hide the catch in his throat. "Can't sleep?"

Teddy shrugged slightly before looking down at his feet, his hands playing with the hem of his pyjama top. Harry took a deep breath before he stood and walked to the kitchen.

"I don't know about you, but I could do with some hot chocolate."

Smiling slightly as he heard Teddy's light footsteps follow him, Harry went about fixing them their late night treat. After a few quick motions of his hand, Harry turned and saw Teddy sitting at the table, his legs swinging slightly in the air. Placing the drink in front of his godson, Harry took a seat and stretched out his body, leaning back in his chair. He stayed silent as Teddy sipped at his drink. He had learned quickly that when something was bothering his little boy it was best to let him talk in his own time - forcing him to talk only resulted in more silence. He knew without a moment's thought that he got his stubbornness from his mother rather than his father.

"How come you were playing?"

The soft question startled Harry out of his thoughts and he paused a moment before answering.

"I was just feeling a little sad, Teddy bear," Harry responded, running his hand through Teddy's bright pink hair. "Playing makes me feel a little better."

"Oh" Teddy looked down at the cup between his small hands. "I didn't think you got sad."

"Of course, I do." Harry replied softly. "Everyone gets a little sad sometimes."

"You miss mummy and daddy."

Harry paused a moment at the statement, amazed as always at his godson's perceptiveness. He forgot sometimes that he was only four years old, most of the time acting years beyond his age. But then, Harry thought with a twist in his heart, grief does bring its own understanding and who better to understand loss than a boy who never knew his family.

"Everyday." Harry responded simply, his voice speaking more than any words could. "They were some of the best people I knew and the world is a little darker without them in it."

Teddy frowned a moment into his cup, opening and closing his mouth as if finding the words to continue. "But they were different."

Harry laughed softly, thinking of the times he had spent with the pair and how quickly he had grown fond of them. Anyone who met them could not help but feel the same way. They were remarkable people, so similar and yet completely different at the same time.

"Oh yes," Harry continued, his voice laced with affection. "You couldn't find two people more different. It was almost fate that they found each other...eventually." Harry added remembering the difficulties they overcame to be together.

Teddy sighed heavily; his small frame slumped forward in his seat as if his godfather's answer didn't solve whatever internal struggle he was attempting to deal with. Harry wondered if perhaps Teddy felt as though he didn't know his parents as he would have liked, despite Harry's many stories. Remembering his own need of learning as much as he could about his own parents, Harry opened his mouth to continue but Teddy's soft question cut across his attempt to speak, shocking him into silence.

"Am I a freak?"

Anger burned in Harry's chest at the Dursley's choice of name for him. He wanted nothing more than to strangle the person who could call a child a freak. Instead, with somewhat of a struggle, Harry responded calmly. He had a much better control on his emotions in the years since he was a teenager.

"What makes you say that little man?"

"I dunno," Teddy said with a slight shrug of his shoulders. "Just people saying things."

Harry sighed and ran his fingers through his messy hair. He never liked talking about his past, the memories were hard enough but he would for Teddy.

"You know when I was young I was raised by my muggle aunt and uncle and they hated magic." Harry smiled slightly when Teddy lifted his head and stared at him with wide eyes. "They called me a freak all the time and I never knew why. When I found out about the wizarding world I understood. Now, do you think I'm a freak?"

"No," Teddy began, a mischievous glint shinning in his eyes. "You're a little odd sometimes though."

Harry chuckled softly, gently tickling his godson's chin. "Cheeky." Harry sighed again, his eyes growing serious.

"You understand what I'm saying? My relatives lashed out at me because they were afraid. People are always afraid of what they don't understand. There is nothing wrong with you being a metamorphmagus or a little bit of a wolf. It's who your parents are and you should always be proud of that."

"I guess so."

Harry looked at his godson for a long moment before he spoke again. "Is that why you can't sleep, the full moon?"

"Yeah...I always get a little yucky on those nights."

"Yucky?" Harry asked, laughing softly. "Is that the medical term?"

"Yip." Teddy said happily, lifting his cup to his mouth and draining his hot chocolate in one go, most of it running down his chin. Harry laughed again feeling some of the sorrow lift from his chest as he wiped his godson's face. "Sorry." Teddy replied, his voice muffled behind the handkerchief against his mouth.

"That's alright, Teddy bear." Harry said finally, leaning back in his chair again with a smile. "I never held much against 'good clean fun'."

Teddy and Harry looked at each other in silence for a long moment before Harry pulled a face making his godson laugh excitedly. Ruffling his hair gently, Harry drained his own cup before waving his hand silently, summoning the cups to the kitchen sink where they started washing themselves. Teddy looked at Harry with curious eyes before he frowned.

"How d'you do that?" He asked, pointing at the cups in the sink. Harry raised one eyebrow and smirked.

"Magic."

Teddy giggled again, shaking his head. "No, I know that...you don't use a wand."

"Ah," Harry replied, finally understanding. "Just takes practice. I never really got to study much when I was at Hogwarts. After the war, I had plenty of time to develop my magic."

"You were saving the world." Teddy said a satisfied smile on his face and Harry felt his stomach leap with joy when he saw the pride in his godson's eyes. Leaning across the table, Harry placed a kiss against Teddy's temple and ran his fingers through his hair, cradling his head in his hand.

"I love you, Teddy. You know that?" Harry asked his eyes serious. It hurt Harry to know that he never told his family how much he loved them when he had the chance. He wouldn't make that mistake with the boy he loved like a son. He vowed to himself that he would make sure that his little godson never doubted he was cared for. Teddy smiled and nodded his head.

"I know. It's cause I'm special, right?"

Harry laughed softly, enjoying the innocence he saw shinning in the wide amber eyes. He knew he would do anything to keep that innocence, to shield him from the horrors he had to witness in his own life. Just like Dumbledore had wanted for him. Now he was a parent, in every way but blood he understood the reasons why Dumbledore had kept him in the dark and after years of doubting the old wizard's intentions when it came to himself he could only feel affection for the man. After all, there were many times he wished he didn't know so much.

"That's right," Harry said firmly, trying and failing to keep his voice serious. "The most special boy in the whole world." Harry watched as Teddy scrunched his face in concentration as if he were deciding something before he happily nodded. "Feel better?"

"Yeah, I don't feel so yucky anymore."

"That's good. Do you think you could sleep now? You're Gran would have my head if she knew I let you stay up this late." Harry finished with a small laugh.

"But I'm not sleepy." Teddy said, stifling a yawn.

"Could have fooled me, little man." Teddy smiled gently, his eyes darting back and forth and Harry knew he was trying to come up with an excuse to stay awake.

"Tell me a story and I'll sleep." Harry laughed at the excitement in his godson's face before he frowned.

"Hmm...a story, huh?" Harry said, tapping his finger against his chin as if he were deep in thought. "Where to start?"

"At the beginning!" Teddy shouted happily clearly proud of his own intelligence. Harry slapped his palm to his forehead, his voice laced with exaggeration.

"Of course! Why didn't I think of that?" Harry shook his head softly. "Well, you're certainly a lot smarter than me. I guess you get that from your dad." Harry smiled at the happiness radiating from Teddy before he stood and lifted the small boy in his arms. "Come on little one, let's get you to bed and I'll tell you a story."

"From the beginning?"

"From the beginning." Harry promised softly, taking the stairs to the second floor. "You'll be asleep within five minutes anyway."

"Will not." A sleepy voice countered from the crook of Harry's neck. Harry laughed again and felt as if the sorrow that was threatening to suffocate him only minutes before was suddenly a million miles away.

"Will so."

Harry walked out of the bathroom with a towel settled low on his hips, drying his hair with another and humming softly. He had put Teddy to bed half an hour ago and left to take a shower after - as he predicted - he had fallen asleep within a few minutes. Harry stopped dead in his tracks as the dying embers in his large marble fireplace sprung to life and turned green.

"H-Harry?" Hermione's voice floated through the room. "Can I come through?"

"Sure," he replied because he didn't want to hurt her feelings but in all honestly, he wasn't really in the mood for company.

Grabbing a clean pair of pyjama bottoms and a t-shirt, Harry walked back into the bathroom and tried to make himself more presentable. Fully dressed and holding the wet towels in one hand, Harry walked back into the room to find Hermione pacing back and forth wringing her hands together. Folding his arms across his chest, Harry leaned his weight against the doorframe and cleared his throat softly. From the way Hermione jumped at the sound he guessed she hadn't heard him come in but when her gaze settled on him, her face softened into a gentle yet tentative smile.

"A little late to be making social calls, isn't it?"

"I just came from the Ministry." Hermione replied quickly. "I was in a meeting with Wilkens from the Goblin liaison office all evening because, well, let's just say someone thought it would be amusing to enchant Galleons with an engorgement charm and some of them found their way into Gringotts unnoticed..."

Harry half-listened as Hermione prattled on about her difficulties at the Ministry without taking a breath and was so reminded of the nervous first-year he had met so long ago that he couldn't help but smile. He knew the reason for her discomfort and, as he had no desire to talk about Ginny or his fight with Ron, he simply nodded and let her continue. Harry pulled himself out of his thoughts long enough to hear her say, "...and well now there is about half a dozen angry Goblins with enlarged hands that we can't seem to shrink. George swears he doesn't know anything about it but I can't say I'm entirely convinced."

Harry laughed softly and walked to the edge of the bed and sat down, facing away from his friend and threw the towels he was holding into the hamper in the corner so Kreacher could deal with it later.

"Why doesn't that surprise me?" Harry leaned forward, resting his elbows on his legs and ran his hands through his damp hair, making it even more unruly. "So, other than disgruntled Goblins - how are you?"

Feeling the mattress shift under his weight, Harry straightened again and turned towards Hermione who had perched herself next to him on the edge of his bed. Head tilted to the side, Hermione was scrutinizing him as if expecting him to sprout antlers before her eyes but at Harry's questioning glance she hastily rearranged her features into an unconvincing smile.

"Oh, I'm alright, I guess." Hermione sighed and her shoulders dropped. "To be honest, I thought you wouldn't want to see me."

"Don't be stupid," said Harry, trying to smile despite the guilt that settled in his chest at the truth of her words. Cursing silently, Harry realised that he wouldn't get away with not discussing Ginny and decided to tackle it head on. "I'm not angry with you, Hermione. Really!" he added when Hermione looked unconvinced. "Ron's your boyfriend and Ginny is like your sister. Of course they're your first priority."

The words had barely left his mouth before Hermione burst into tears and threw herself into Harry's arms, hugging him tightly. "But you're my best friend." She replied shakily. "I should have been here for you too."

Harry lifted his hands and patted her awkwardly on the back. "And you say I have a saving-people thing?" Hermione laughed softly and pulled back, wiping her eyes on the back of her sleeve.

"Ron didn't mean what he said." Hermione continued, ignoring Harry's protests. "No, Harry, he didn't. He was angry and you know how protective he's been since Fred died..." Her voice faded into an awkward silence. "I don't understand what happened between you two." She continued after a moment's silence and Harry knew that the question he had wanted to avoid was coming up. "Is there no way that you and Ginny could get back together?"

"No, Hermione." Harry said sharply but regretted his harsh tone when he saw the hurt on her face. Taking a deep breath, Harry tried to explain something he had never put into words before, deciding it would be best to be honest with her. "I'll always care about Ginny but when we started dating in sixth year it was because I was so...desperate to be, I don't know, a normal teenager I guess. I just wanted to get away from the prophecy and Sirius' death and when Voldemort was finished I thought I could have that normal life but normal and me don't go together, Hermione."

Hermione's mouth was slightly opened by the time Harry was finished. She was staring at him with a mixture of understanding and pity. Harry ignored it.

"In the end I would have hurt her more by staying with her." he continued hastily, trying to end the topic of conversation as quickly as possible. "I didn't want to hurt her but I changed Hermione. We all did so please just leave it alone. "

Ignoring his plea, Hermione opened her mouth to respond but Harry shook his head silently, cutting off the words that were forming. Turned his head towards the fireplace, Harry stared into the dancing flames without really seeing them, his mind on Ron and the rest of the Weasley's. His thoughts must have shown on his face because Hermione said. "Why don't you go to the Burrow soon, I'm sure they'd be happy to see you?"

Harry laughed harshly. "I seriously doubt that."

"That's not true!" Hermione replied, her voice edging on shrill. "The Weasley's love you Harry. It's just that Ginny was so upset when you ended things with her and she's their-"

"-family." Harry finished his voice barely a whisper. "I get it, Hermione."

Harry stood up abruptly when fresh tears formed in the corners of her eyes. Stretching his arms above his head, Harry looked around his bedroom with little interest before he walked over to his window and studied the thin mist that clung to the glass. Harry sighed and shook his head. It seemed that the dementors were breeding again. News had been brought to the Ministry weeks ago that the dementors had been swarming in muggle neighbourhoods and with everything else that had happened it only proved that the wizarding world was on the brink of another war.

"I suppose you heard what happened to Dawson?" Harry asked turning back to Hermione's silent form.

Hermione tilted her head to the side and studied him silently for a breath, her eyes searching his in slight desperation before she nodded her head, accepting that no more would be said of the Weasley's. "Yes, I heard. How did you find out?"

"Kingsley told me earlier, he was in two minds whether or not he should let the _Prophet_ know." Harry said with a sigh.

"Really?" Harry looked at her for a moment, noting the distrust in her voice and understood immediately what she wasn't saying.

"You know Kingsley, Hermione." Harry began with a small smile. "He isn't like Fudge; he's not trying to keep the public in the dark."

Hermione frowned and began twisting the edge of her robes in her hands. "It's just so horrible. I know not many people liked Dawson but he was a Ministry official and he was killed on Ministry premises. It seems like we shouldn't trust anyone these days."

"Are you saying you don't trust Kingsley?"

Hermione's eyes widened. "Oh no Harry, that's not what I'm saying at all. Of course I trust him. I'm just saying that-"

"He's doing the best he can." Harry interrupted, running a hand through his hair. "The Ministry is already weakened from the war, if the employees and the public found out that murders are happening inside, there will be panic. But in the end, it wasn't something we could keep to ourselves. Too many people knew already and the public trust is thin as it is, if they found out that the Ministry kept this secret, we'll be back where we started four years ago."

Hermione jumped to her feet abruptly and began pacing the room. It had been a long time since he had seen her so agitated. "This is so frustrating!" She started loudly, throwing her hands over her head as if protecting herself from an attack. "I thought with Voldemort gone that things were meant to get better. It feels like were still at war!"

"That's because we are, Hermione." Harry answered, raising his hand to trace the scar on his forehead. It hadn't pained him in years but served to act as a constant reminder of the days when it had. "The numbers at his command were huge by the end and the Ministry didn't exactly have many trusted employees to round them up. It was only a matter of time before a Death Eater rose among the ranks to take Voldemort's place."

"But_who_? Who it is? I've been searching the Ministry records for weeks trying to narrow down the known Death Eaters to find a plausible replacement and everyone who it could be was arrested." She finished despairingly, dropping into the armchair beside the fire. Harry settled into the chair across from her and leaned towards her, his elbows resting on his knees.

"This might sound crazy..." Harry began carefully. "But I think it's someone on the inside."

Hermione's brow furrowed as she thought over his words before her eyes widened almost comically. "You believe there is a spy in the Ministry?" She asked eagerly. "Do you suspect someone?"

"No, it's just a feeling I have." Hermione looked at him incredulously, her eyebrows raised so high they threatened to disappear into her hair. "I think-" Harry swallowed, knowing how strange this was going to sound. "I think _he_ _is_ a Ministry employee."

Hermione snorted. "Harry, that's impossible. Kingsley made sure that every employee that was remotely connected to Voldemort was thoroughly investigated and subsequently fired or arrested."

Harry looked into Hermione's eyes pleadingly. "Hermione, you didn't believe me when I thought Draco Malfoy had become a Death Eater. You didn't believe me when I said that there was a horcrux hidden at Hogwarts and you didn't believe me about the hallows. I'm asking you to believe me now."

"Well, I had every reason to believe...it was just ridiculous to suggest..." Hermione replied hotly before she sighed and shook her head. "It isn't that I don't trust your judgement Harry but it is not logical that someone this powerful has avoided detection for so long. Unless of course you're suggesting that it is a new employee, perhaps Dennis Creevey?" She laughed but stopped abruptly when Harry's head shot up. "Oh Harry, I'm sorry-"

"Dennis Creevey joined the Ministry?" Harry asked flatly. Hermione looked at him sadly and nodded.

"Yes. Muggle Relations. He joined a week ago."

Harry nodded and turned away to stare into the fire again. He hadn't seen Colin's little brother since the memorial four years ago and it had not been a pleasant meeting to say the least. Dennis had blamed Harry for his brother's death going as far as to attack him in the middle of the Great Hall. Harry had not even lifted his wand to defend himself, the guilt of those who died still weighing heavily on his heart. It didn't stop Ron however. In an attempt to force away the bitter memories and remorse that the news had brought forth in him, Harry returned to their previous conversation.

"I know it sounds mad." Harry laughed without humour. "It's not the first time I've been accused of it. But just think...the Death Eaters that weren't captured went underground and we spent months trying to narrow down locations. The dementors fled. The giants were run out of the country." Harry paused to take a breath, his mind racing with possibilities. "Now the Death Eaters are active, the dementors are attacking, there are sightings of giants in Britain again and there's murders happening within the Ministry-"

"But that doesn't mean that their leader is an employee!"

"No one but the Ministry had access to that kind of information, Hermione; about the Death Eaters, the dementors. Plus, there is every manner of security surrounding the Ministry these days so it would be bloody impossible for someone to have gotten in and out without detection, especially after committing murder."

Hermione looked at him sceptically. "Have you told Kingsley about your _suspicions_?"

"Yes." Harry sighed heavily. "But he's like you, doesn't think there's enough proof and until there is, he can't go around accusing innocent people."

"Well, he's right!" Hermione exclaimed fervently and Harry raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Harry, I'm sorry but I think you've got this all wrong." She said, shaking her head. "None of that suggests that we have a traitor in the Ministry. It must be one the Death Eaters that went underground. If they worked in the Ministry, they would have been discovered by now."

"Unless he's smart" Harry said firmly. "And this man is."

"Or woman." Hermione countered, with a small sniff. "It could easily be a woman who is leading these attacks."

"Sure."

Harry chuckled softly when she gave a half-stern glare in his direction and leaned over to squeeze her hand again before releasing it. "Look Hermione, I can't explain it but I know I'm right."

Hermione sighed. "I'll go over the employee records and see if I can find anything." Harry smiled at her in thanks and leaned back in his chair, stretching out his tense body. Hermione looked down at her lap. "Although I don't know what you expect me to find. Anyone with that kind of power working for the Ministry has to be of the light."

"There's always dark within the light." Harry said with a smirk in her direction. Soft chuckles came from between Hermione's lips and she lifted her head to look into Harry's eyes, dark brown meeting sparkling green.

"You sound more like Dumbledore every day."

Harry smiled, despite the constriction he felt in his chest, knowing from her tone of voice that it was meant as a compliment and not an insult. It had taken Hermione longer than Harry to understand their old Headmaster's choices when it concerned him and he doubted she ever fully forgave him for convincing Harry to walk to his death. Harry, on the other hand, had come to understand that no matter what Dumbledore needed from him, the choice to sacrifice himself was his choice and his alone. And to Harry, that meant all the difference in the world.

"Well, can't be helped I suppose." Harry frowned as he reached up to rub the slight stubble that had grown on his chin. "It might take me a while to grow the beard though."

The smile had stayed on Hermione's face but now the corners of her mouth had softened and her brown eyes warmed, her expression moving easily from amused to tender. "I'm frightened for you, Harry."

"Don't be." Harry said quickly, "I was only kidding about the beard-ouch" His teasing ended abruptly with a small pinch on his arm.

"I'm serious!" Hermione said tightly, her mouth turned downed into a small frown. "You have to be careful. The Ministry isn't safe anymore and you're a target, Harry. You know that if someone is taking Voldemort's place then the first thing he is going to do is finish what Voldemort started, do what he couldn't do." Harry raised his head to look at her, one eyebrow arched in question. She took a deep breath, her exasperated expression so familiar to him that he couldn't help but smile. "Honestly Harry, you have to realise who you are. "

Harry resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "I know who I am, Hermione. I'm always going to be a target. But," Harry added when Hermione opened her mouth to speak. "I promise I'll be careful."

Hermione smiled. "Good. I should get home before Ron sends out a search party." she said, eyeing the grandfather clock that stood in the corner of the room. "Why don't you talk to him tomorrow?"

Harry's smile faltered at her words. "Maybe."

"You miss him and I know he misses you!" Hermione implored. "I swear, after all we've been through you two still act like a couple of adolescents. It's like nothing has changed since first year."

Harry couldn't help but grin as she jumped to her feet in annoyance and stomped towards the pot of floo powder next to the fireplace. "I guess I'll see you later then?"

"Yes, I guess you shall." Harry smile widened as he heard the half-hidden amusement in her voice. "Until then, let's hope things don't get any worse."

"Famous last words." Harry muttered under his breath as Hermione disappeared from the fireplace in a flash of green.

How right he was.

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><p><strong>AN:** Well there it is. As you can see I took out Ginny purely because I don't like that pairing and the thought of having to write their relationship later on was a bit off-putting for me. I'm up for starting a discussion...anyone else who doesn't like their relationship? :P


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N**: **Important:** The second half of chapter 1 has been revised so if you haven't read it yet I suggest you do or you might be a bit confused. :) Hope you enjoy. My apologies again for disappearing for so long. It really has been a rough few months...and now I have a hole in my living room ceiling cause the idiots upstairs flooded the place...what fun, lol.

Again...I am not Jk Rowling and so I don't own anything of the Harry Potter universe...but a girl can dream.

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><p><strong>Chapter 2:<strong>

Two weeks later:

Harry sat in his large office seeing nothing of the grand mahogany desk with ornate boxes and quill holders for the folders and parchment that covered every inch of the dark wood. He had arrived to his office that morning hoping for a quiet escape for a few hours but from the current state of his desk it was obvious he had been overreaching. It was only ten-thirty and the previous hours had already been hectic; filled with frantic summons to impromptu meetings and urgent owls from the public and Ministry officials and, eyeing the disarray of his office, Harry doubted the rest of his day would fare any better. Harry stretched out his legs under his desk and yawned.

Grabbing a discarded folder, he opened his last page and began reading. It was the latest report concerning the placement of the remaining Aurors, that is, those that hadn't yet been killed or injured during the recent attacks. It was not looking promising.

Sighing deeply, he focused on the line he had read for the fourth time and struggled for its meaning to sink in. He was distracted, his mind racing with the troubles and concerns of the Auror department and according to his calendar, the rest of the week appeared no easier.

_One day at a time Harry,_ he thought calmly.

A soft chirping brought his attention to the small enchanted owl paper-weight that was hopping over the desk, nudging papers with its beak and flapping its wings unhappily at the piles of parchment, trying in vain to create order amongst the mayhem. With a barely concealed snort of laughter at the desperate attempts of his owl, Harry dropped the folder he was holding and stared at the clock that hung on the wall to the left, leaning back against the soft leather of his seat and clasping his hands together; his eyes unfocused as the seconds ticked by. He was exhausted. He hadn't slept in over twenty-six hours and was struggling to keep his eyes open despite the growing complaints that required his attention.

_Just one moment's peace...that's all I ask_, Harry thought tiredly, resting his head against the back of his chair and closing his eyes. The owl flapped its wings loudly in annoyance and turned to nudge the _Daily Prophet_ that lay haphazard across several folders as if it had been pushed away roughly. A large black photo of Azkaban prison covered most of the front page, above which the headline read:

**Mass-breakout from Azkaban**

**Captured Death Eaters at large**

The Ministry of Magic announced late last night that there has been a mass breakout from Azkaban. Minister for Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt spoke with reporters confirming that sixteen high security prisoners had escaped the prison during a vicious assault which resulted in the death of four Aurors including the Head of the Auror office, Vincent Akins. Several others were injured in the attack and are currently recovering in St Mungo's Hospital. The Ministry urges the public to be on guard for any sign of attack.

"In these times, the wizarding community must unite against the evil that is threatening what little peace we have recovered since the fall of Lord Voldemort," said Shacklebolt. "While every effort is being done to find and capture the wizards responsible for these attacks, the Ministry cannot stand alone. Our greatest defence against this darkness is you. Take every measure possible to defend your families and your neighbours, be they wizards or muggles. Too long our world has held foolish prejudices which have resulted in the near destruction of our community. Now is the time for us to join our forces and fight against these injustices. If we do not then the very thing we are fighting for is already lost to us."

Shacklebolt confirmed rumours that Harry Potter, the defeater of He-who-must-not-be-named has replaced that late Auror Akins as Head of the Auror office. Potter has thus far been unavailable for comment.

Story continued on page 3.

Harry opened his eyes and stared out the small window that overlooked the Atrium. Despite the shimmering light that bounced off the golden statue to the surrounding floor and walls, Harry couldn't help but notice that the Atrium looked gloomier than he had remembered a few weeks ago. Since the murder of William Dawson the Ministry employees walked together in tight-knit groups, quietly whispering amongst themselves and casting nervous glances around the room as if fearing sudden attack. The assault on the prison the previous day had only made matters worse.

Harry's eyes quickly scanned the room for sight of any familiar faces, hoping to catch a glimpse of Ron or Hermione or even Mr Weasley to lift his spirits. Instead, he felt the breath catch in his throat as he spotted Dennis Creevey walking amongst the subdued crowd. Harry followed his trek through the hall silently, trying to force away the painful and bitter memories that came to the forefront of his mind.

"_Colin died because of you! He fought for you! You were meant to save him!"_

Harry shifted his gaze away from the small figure and studied the rest of the crowd but he couldn't prevent the long, suffering sigh that escaped him. In the wake of the Battle of Hogwarts, Ron and Hermione had correctly interpreted his stony silence as a reflection of his inner turmoil and despite their desperate attempts to make him see that the deaths of those who had fought beside him was not his fault, the guilt had never really left him. He wondered if there would ever come a time when he would look back at that night and not regret that he hadn't handed himself over to Voldemort sooner. His sacrifice would have protected the soldiers of Hogwarts from Voldemort's wrath and by doing so Dennis would still have his brother, the Weasleys would still have Fred, Teddy would still have his parents and Harry would be able to sleep a little better at night. But it was not meant to be.

"Sickle for your thoughts, Harry."

Harry snorted, his eyes focused on the rippling water of the golden fountain that occupied the Atrium. "My thoughts aren't worth that much," he replied.

"True, dear boy. I should offer a Galleon instead."

Harry turned to the portrait of his old Headmaster. He was smiling at him in a very reassuring and earnest sort of way that Harry couldn't help but smile in return. It had come as quite a shock when he had entered his new office the previous day to find the newly situated portrait of Albus Dumbledore on the wall. No doubt a thoughtful gesture from Kingsley to help ease him into a position he had been less than eager to accept.

Harry's smile widened.

He couldn't really explain it but he suddenly felt much calmer than he had in a long time. Perhaps it was because the chill of the North Sea and its prison (the image of his godfather huddled in his dank cell for years, weakened and hopeless was enough to turn his insides to ice despite the absence of the dementors) was finally leaving his system. Or maybe it was the comforting presence of Dumbledore, who, even in this diminished capacity, seemed to bring light to any darkness. For whichever reason, Harry felt at ease for the first time in weeks. His heartbeat receded to a steady rhythm and his racing thoughts ceased within his pounding head.

Harry noticed out of the corner of his eye that Dumbledore was observing him intently and he suddenly realized that he hadn't responded to his query.

"I was thinking of the past." Harry replied reluctantly. "No matter how much I try and forget it, it finds a way of coming back to me."

"It haunts us all, Harry." Dumbledore said wisely. "Yours is a difficult burden to bear and you alone know the pain of carrying such a burden. To have the responsibility of so many lives in the palm of your hand is no easy task, as you well know, my boy."

Harry smiled sadly and looked into the bright blue eyes which seemed to twinkle even on canvas. "As do you and yet you always seemed to handle it so much better than I. You are a stronger man than me, sir."

Dumbledore chuckled and twiddled his thumbs. "Thank you for the compliment, Harry." Dumbledore paused and smiled at him with such affection that Harry felt his heart expand in his chest. "You are just as modest as I remember." Dumbledore sighed heavily and his eyes turned grave. "It saddens me that you have to face another war when the wounds of the previous struggle have not yet healed. It was my dearest hopes that you would have found peace after all you had suffered at Voldemort's hands...but know this Harry, you _are_ strong. I am sure that during your darkest moments you did not believe you could defeat Voldemort either and yet you have done so and saved thousands of lives as a result. You will succeed again. I have faith in you." Dumbledore peered at him over his glasses, his gentle smile making him appear younger than his years. "I always have, Harry."

Harry swallowed around the lump that had formed in his throat but the smile on his face was genuine no matter how small it was. He had avoided speaking with Dumbledore's portrait within the Ministry for years before it had been moved into his newly acquired office. It was too painful for him. But now, as he stared into the piercing blue eyes that had once been so familiar to him, he suddenly had the urge to tell Dumbledore everything he wished he had said to the man when he was alive. "Sir..." he began, struggling to find the words. After a few moments of silence, the only thing that came to his mind was "I'm sorry I destroyed your office."

Harry grimaced at how idiotic he had sounded but, just as he had in life, Dumbledore seemed to know exactly what Harry had been thinking. His embarrassment turned to surprise when he saw Dumbledore's eyes glistening with unshed tears. "That's quite alright, my boy." he whispered.

A small nip on his finger drew Harry's attention away from Dumbledore to his irritated paper-weight who raised its wings and chirped at him repeatedly in a manner which suspiciously reminded him of Hermione's lectures about his school work.

Dumbledore chuckled as the owl nipped his fingers again clearly suggesting that he spend more time working that talking to portraits. Harry looked up at Dumbledore's smiling face and answered his unasked question.

"Hermione gave it to me." He said, grabbing the bird and turning it so it focused its attention on the cluttered desk rather than its occupant. After an indignant hoot, it went back to shuffling the papers and folders with its beak. "I think I preferred the talking organiser she bought me in fifth year."

"Ah, I am like you, dear boy." Dumbledore smiled. "I never was quite as organised as I would like to be, especially when it came to paperwork. Unlike Severus who was always most efficient."

"How is Professor Snape?" Harry asked quietly after a moment of silence.

"Oh, he is most displeased that you made every effort to place his portrait next to mine." Dumbledore said happily. "And that he has to listen to the 'moronic ramblings of idiotic brats for the rest of his existence', as he puts it."

Harry laughed. "Some things never change."

"And some things do." Dumbledore responded, his eyes twinkling. "I never thought I would see the day when you would laugh fondly at something Severus said."

"Knowing you sir, I'm sure you foresaw the shift in my view of Professor Snape the moment I entered Hogwarts."

"One can only hope, Harry." Dumbledore laughed reaching into his robes to pull out a bag of sweets. Harry shook his head at the sight.

"I should have known something as trivial as death could not keep you from your sweets, Professor."

"Quite right." Dumbledore said, popping a sweet into his mouth. "Although I do believe that half the enjoyment came from offering them to others. The only other portrait that humours me now is Severus and it is only to remind me that I am a 'blithering old dingbat'. As you rightly said, Harry; some things never change." Dumbledore sighed heavily and lowered his head as if he was deeply saddened with the condemnation of his favourite muggle sweets but Harry saw that his eyes were shinning with youthful mirth. "Ah well, as I said to you once before Harry, we must try not to sink beneath our anguish-"

"-but battle on." Harry finished with a small laugh. "One of your more memorable sayings, sir."

Dumbledore opened his mouth to speak but closed it again when a knock sounded on the office door. Harry sighed resignedly and took off his glasses to rub his tired eyes.

"Come in." he said in a flat voice. The door opened silently and Harry slipped on his glasses again, his body becoming motionless when his eyes focused on the figure at the door. "Draco?"

"Potter." Draco responded coldly, his eyes quickly scanning the messy office. Harry stood behind his desk and motioned for him to enter. Closing the door behind him, Draco walked towards the desk and after a moment's hesitation took the hand that was offered to him.

"It's been a long time, Draco." Harry said seriously, taking in the troubled look in the blonde's eyes and the tightness around his mouth. "Please, sit" he finished waving a hand towards the seat across from his desk.

"Who were you talking to?" Draco asked quickly, his eyes narrowed as he looked around the office again. "I heard voices."

"That sounds quite serious." Harry responded jokingly. "I'd suggest a trip to St Mungo's if it continues." Harry sighed when he received an icy glare in return and silently pointed to Dumbledore's portrait. Draco turned to follow Harry's direction before his face tightened and he shuffled in his seat. Harry was sure that he was uncomfortable being in the presence of the man he had spent a year attempting to kill, even in his portrait form. Dumbledore, who was preoccupied with choosing another lemon drop, seemed completely oblivious to Draco's discomfort.

Draco quickly looked away after he spotted his old Headmaster but his head snapped back to Dumbledore, a look of incredulity on his pale face.

"Is that- is he eating sweets?" Harry laughed and leaned back in his seat, ignoring the protesting muscles in his back.

"I suppose he is." Harry replied calmly, his smile widening when Dumbledore winked at him behind his half-moon spectacles. "Just be thankful there is a frame between you or he would no doubt, be trying to shove them down your throat as we speak."

Ignoring Dumbledore's laughter, Draco turned back to Harry with a scowl and said coolly "many congratulations on your new position."

"It was no skill, I assure you. I was simply the best candidate from a short list." Harry studied Draco silently who looked as if he were more than eager to discuss Harry's lack of skill. Feeling the irritation building in his chest, Harry brought the conversation around to a safer topic. "What can I do for you, Draco?"

"I have been trying to contact you for over a week now." Draco replied in annoyance. "You're a hard man to get a hold of."

"I apologise." Harry said with a heavy sigh. The security that was surrounding him was getting tedious. "Kingsley has put every measure of protection around me since the Death Eaters had started to re-surface. My mail is being searched and, quite frankly, anything from a Malfoy would have been held back and investigated thoroughly."

Draco raised his chin defiantly. "I have no intention of trying to kill you, Potter. I am not stupid enough to attack the Saviour of the wizarding world. It took me an hour to reach your office from the Atrium."

"I know, Draco," he said seriously, looking directly into pale blue eyes. "I have no control over it. If I did I would have responded as soon as I had received it. Care to tell me what was so urgent?"

"I have been receiving word of the Death Eaters' plans." Draco spoke quickly, his gaze unwavering. Harry raised a questioning eyebrow and tilted his head to the side to study the man before him.

"Is there a reason you've been receiving this kind of information, Draco?" Harry asked carefully. "Because I had hoped considering your experience of Voldemort-"

Draco flinched at the sound of his name and cut across Harry angrily. "I am not thinking of rejoining the Death Eaters, Potter! It's not my fault that the wizarding community still regard us as dark wizards! The Malfoy name is treated with contempt!" There was a tense silence in which Harry had to bite his tongue against pointing out that it was the Malfoy family who brought that contempt upon themselves. He doubted that comment would help matters. After taking a shuddering breath, Draco sighed and the anger seemed to seep from his frame leaving him deflated. "You saved my life and kept my family and me out of prison. There is a debt to be repaid. I gave you my word and I don't intend to break it."

"How very Slytherin of you." Harry said with a small smile but his tone was not mocking. He had long put aside his childish prejudices against Slytherin house. After all, the man who had been the cause of his parent's deaths had been a Gryffindor. "There is no debt to be paid, Draco. Your mother lied about my survival to Voldemort. No matter what her reasons were, if she hadn't I would have been tortured and killed."

"There is still a debt to be paid." Draco repeated stubbornly and Harry, realising that Draco would not be convinced otherwise, nodded.

"Okay, then I would be very grateful to hear of anything you know."

"You are still unaware of this new dark wizard's identity even though he has been making a mockery of your precious Ministry?" Draco asked even though it was perfectly clear that he knew the answer.

"Yes." Harry replied through clenched teeth. "He has, so far, evaded capture. I suspected someone within the Ministry for a time."

"Suspected? You no longer believe it is a Ministry employee?" Harry sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He had received word from Hermione a week ago telling him that every employee had been thoroughly investigated _again_ and there was no evidence to suggest any one of them was connected to the Dark Arts. Harry had resigned himself to the fact that he was mistaken but he couldn't ignore the feeling in his gut that was telling him he was right despite the lack of evidence.

From the corner of his eye he saw that Draco was looking at him strangely and Harry realised he hadn't responded in several minutes.

"There's every possibility that there is a spy within the Ministry." He replied evasively.

Draco looked at him intently. "I was sorry to hear that your boss was killed during the attack on Azkaban." he said though he didn't sound sorry at all. "He had been with the Ministry for some time, had he not?"

"Fifteen years if I remember correctly." Harry agreed, thinking of his old mentor. He was never close to the man and felt more uncomfortable in his presence than anything else but he was a powerful wizard and a good Auror. His death was a devastating blow to their side.

"His name was Vincent Akins, yes?"

Harry nodded slowly, his eyes narrowed. Although he was speaking casually, there was something in Draco's tone that caught his attention.

"I have heard that name spoken," he continued "in certain circles. That was the reason I contacted you a week ago. I thought he was a spy."

A stunned silence followed Draco's declaration in which his office seemed to come to a standstill except the intermittent chirping of his paper-weight. Even Dumbledore had stilled in his frame to listen closely. Harry opened his mouth to speak but closed it again with an audible click when words eluded him. Taking off his glasses, Harry pinched the bridge of his nose, and tried to slow his racing mind. What did this mean? Could it be possible that his old boss was a spy? It seemed ridiculous that a man he had trained under for four years had, within a few seconds, become his enemy. "You are sure?" he whispered.

Draco nodded stiffly in assent. "My family and I have heard many things whether we wish to or not. There are many Death Eaters who believe that the Malfoy's are still loyal to the Dark Lord's cause."

"I wouldn't rule anyone out." Harry responded finally, replacing his glasses and staring at a point over Draco's left shoulder. "It is possible he was a spy. We may never know. I guess it no longer matters if he was." Harry said, forcing away the shock that numbed his brain. "He's dead."

Draco laughed harshly. "You Gryffindors only see the obvious. If he is dead then why is his name still being whispered amongst the Death Eaters in their upcoming plans? Honestly, Potter," he spat "can you think of no way that he could fake his own death? He would not be the first Death Eater to do so."

_'Still whispered among the Death Eaters...fake his own death...a traitor within the Ministry.'_

It was like a light had been switched on in Harry's head and suddenly every scrap of information Harry had received over the past months fell into place. Rising from his seat Harry began pacing back and forth behind his desk, Draco's eyes following his every move. Akins had been employed in the Ministry fifteen years ago, long enough after Voldemort's disappearance that any connection to him or the Dark Arts would have been forgotten. Perhaps, like many others, he had been biding his time until his master's return or he had only joined Voldemort during his second reign, cleverly concealed within the Ministry, passing information to the Dark side. The Ministry had been infiltrated too easily after Dumbledore's death – did he have a hand in that too?

When Harry had defeated Voldemort, Akins had been promoted to Head Auror being the most experienced wizard of his profession. He had access to everything. They had spent so long searching for a wizard with unimaginable power, someone in equal standing to Voldemort that they had simply over-looked any one less skilled as a possibility. Now, in the light of things, it was a ridiculous assumption on their part. After all, hadn't Harry himself proven that power doesn't necessarily come from skill but from knowledge as well? Without his understanding of the Horcruxes Voldemort would surely still be alive and Harry would have been killed long ago. Taking a shuddering breath, Harry was barely aware that he had started murmuring under his breath trying to piece the information together in his head. Harry had been so sure that a spy within the Ministry had killed Dawson while Hermione and Kingsley and many others had believed it was an outside attack. Had Dawson figured out Akins true identity? Is that why he had been murdered?

_Yes, that seemed to be the only logical conclusion_, Harry thought. He was sure Dawson didn't have any enemies that wanted him disposed of enough to risk breaking into the Ministry. And what else? The attack on Azkaban would have been too easy to orchestrate considering Akins himself had constructed most of the protection around the prison. There was no question in Harry's mind that every fugitive Death Eater would be more than willing to join his campaign now that Voldemort was dead. The dementors and the giants would have been only too eager to cooperate, to regain the standing they had when Voldemort was alive. It all made sense...and yet...

"Your father was in Voldemort's inner circle." Harry said turning to Draco again. "Wouldn't he have known if Akins was a Death Eater? Wouldn't have Professor Snape?"

Draco scowled at the indirect insult to his father. "The Dark Lord had many spies, Potter. Many of whom have never been exposed even to his own followers. He trusted no one."

"No, he did not." Harry agreed, resuming his pacing. If it were true and he had faked his own death then how? Polyjuice potion seemed to be the best option. Perhaps he had coerced a prisoner into taking his form before he or she was murdered. The Ministry would have assumed they had simply escaped. And now the world believed Akins was dead. No one would suspect him while he planned his final strike. Harry paused and turned back to Draco, a sinking sensation in the pit of his stomach. "You said you had been receiving word of the Death Eaters' plans? Are you talking about an attack on the Ministry?"

Draco looked surprised for a moment before he composed himself behind his usual mask of indifference and nodded. Harry fell into his chair and covered his face with his hands. The attack on Azkaban was after all well planned. Without the presence of the dementors, the Death Eaters that had escaped had remained as sane as they had been when they were captured. Now, Akins had the numbers to attack and with the control of the Ministry, he had control of wizarding Britain, including Hogwarts. Harry took a few calming breaths before he dropped his hands and prepared himself for what had to be done.

"You've risked a great deal coming to me with this information. Thank you." Draco nodded curtly in response but Harry saw the flicker of fear that passed over his face. "I gave you my word that I would help you if I could, Draco. I keep my promises."

Draco snorted. "How very Slytherin of you." He said mimicking Harry's earlier words. "But you're Ministry can't protect me, Potter."

"No," Harry began with a heavy sigh "I don't suppose it can. But I can try. Let me help you."

Draco watched him oddly and Harry thought he saw his pale blue eyes softening but in the next second he realised he must have imagined it. His expression had become uncaring and superior once more. "I do not need your help. My family and I are leaving the country. If you were smart you would do the same. You may have been 'The Chosen One' during the Dark Lord's reign, Potter but you weren't destined to end _this_ war. It would be safer if you fled."

"You know I can't do that." Harry finished sadly, pushing his aching body into standing position. Draco, sensing their meeting had come to an end, stood as well. "Take care of yourself." Harry continued seriously as he offered his hand to Draco again.

"And you Potter." Draco shook his hand briefly and walked towards the door to leave but before he could reach the handle, it swung open and Ron stepped in. He stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of Draco and his eyes narrowed.

"Weasel." Draco spat and Harry noticed Ron's ears turning red in anger.

"Ferret." Ron responded in turn. Draco sneered at him for a moment before he nodded to Harry once more and left the room. Holding up his hand to stem Ron's questions, Harry turned to the portrait of his old Headmaster who was looking down at him over his half-moon spectacles with something close to pride. Harry smiled softly in return despite the panic that was churning his stomach.

"Would you mind visiting your other portrait and asking Professor McGonagall if I could come through?"

"Of course, dear boy." Dumbledore replied, rising from his throne-like chair and disappearing into the frame. Harry turned back to Ron and quickly told him everything that Draco had said. By the time he had finished a few minutes later, Ron looked gobsmacked.

"Harry...you're not going to take Malfoy's word for this are you? He's a lying git."

"I believe him, Ron." Harry said firmly, followed by an uncomfortable silence as they waited the return of Dumbledore. Ron had approached Harry several days ago and, after breaking his nose in retaliation for hurting his sister, had accepted their split amicably. However, their interactions so far had been somewhat tense. "Do you know where Kingsley is?"

"Yeah." Ron replied shaking his head experimentally like a dog trying to rid its ears of water. "He just left for Hogwarts to sort out the memorial tomorrow." Before Harry could respond Dumbledore had returned to his frame and cleared his throat softly.

"Minerva said she would be delighted to see you and that the password to her fire is Duro."

Harry nodded in thanks and turned back to Ron. "I have to speak with McGonagall and Kingsley. Can you round up the Aurors while I'm gone; just don't say anything, yeah?"

"Sure, mate." Ron replied still looking a bit shell-shocked. "Bloody hell, I thought the only thing I had to fear from Akins was being fired." Harry laughed and walked to the fireplace. Removing his glasses, he grabbed a handful of floo-powder and threw it into the flames. He stated his destination and password clearly and, with a soft whooshing sound, he disappeared in a flash of green.

Harry stumbled out of the fireplace into the room he hadn't stepped foot in, in over four years. His head was spinning. Even after all this time, it wasn't his favourite method of transportation. Placing his glasses on his nose, he looked around quickly and spotted McGonagall rising from her seat and walking towards him, looking as stern as ever in her green tartan robes and pointed hat but her mouth had softened into a gentle smile when Harry entered the room.

"It's good to see you, Harry." She said placing a hand on his shoulder. He had never gotten used to her calling him by his first name. "It's been a long time since I've seen you in this office." Harry smiled in return and ignored the painful throb in his chest.

"It's good to see you too, Professor." McGonagall peered at him over her rectangular glasses and smiled.

"I am no longer your professor Harry. I insist you call me Minerva."

Harry laughed. "Old habits die hard, Pr-Minerva."

McGonagall nodded her satisfaction and lowered into her chair again, motioning for Harry to do the same, her expression turning serious. "Albus said you had something urgent to discuss, Harry. What has happened?"

"If you don't mind I would rather wait until Kingsley arrived. It would be easier if you were both here to listen to this."

McGonagall looked at Harry curiously but agreed and soon a comfortable silence fell between them. Harry's eyes turned from McGonagall and travelled around the circular room noting the changes that had occurred over the years. A part of him still expected to see Dumbledore's many silver instruments whirring and puffing on their spindle legged tables but they were gone. The grand bookcase that lined the wall during Dumbledore's tenancy remained but the books were unfamiliar to him now; many of them seeming to focus on Portuguese literature. Harry's glance moved to the sorting hat that sat on its shelf behind the Headmistress' chair looking more ragged and torn than ever and memories of his own sorting filled his mind. The glass case that enclosed Gryffindor's sword was gleaming in the sunlight that stretched across the desk and around the walls that were lined with the past Headmasters and Headmistresses of Hogwarts. He noticed that most of them were not bothering to feign sleep as was their usual practice but looking at Harry with a combination of excitement and curiosity. Fawkes' perch was gone and with a sinking sensation in his chest, Harry realised that his absence seemed to make the room appear a little darker.

Harry blinked owlishly, bringing himself out of his thoughts and into the present, and saw that McGonagall was smiling at Harry with understanding. "It takes some time to get used to it."

In spite of himself Harry's eyes lifted to Dumbledore's frame, searching for those familiar twinkling eyes, and felt reassured by the kindly smile that always graced the Headmaster's face. His glance moved a little to the left and green eyes met with black. Harry cleared his throat which had suddenly gone very dry. Even in his portrait form, the man never failed to make Harry feel as if he were a child caught in wrong-doing.

"How are you, sir?" Harry asked.

Severus Snape raised his left eyebrow in surprise before he replied, looking intimidating as ever in his black formal robes. "I have to spend the remainder of my pitiful existence trapped in this infernal office. How do you think I am, Potter?" He sneered but his words did not hold the same venom that they once had.

McGonagall looked as if she was struggling not to roll her eyes and Harry ran his knuckles across his mouth to hide the laughter that was threatening to erupt from between his lips. Dumbledore had no such restraint.

"As I told you, my boy; Severus remains his jovial self." He laughed happily.

"Oh, do shut up, Albus." Snape responded half-heartedly. McGonagall sighed in exasperation but Harry noticed that her thin lips were twitching at the corners as she fought off a smile.

"Why you insisted that Severus' portrait be hung in this office Harry, I have no idea. I am sure he would have been more content in the dungeons." Harry saw from the corner of his eye that many of the other portraits were nodding in assent, others looking quite terrified.

Severus snorted. "And have to suffer the travesty that has befallen my potions lab, I think not."

McGonagall opened her mouth to respond but a knock on the door interrupted her and Kingsley swept into the room, his navy robes looking dishevelled. He paused in his steps when he noticed Harry sitting across from McGonagall, his gold earring twinkling in the sunlight. He had refused to do away with the jewellery after he had become Minister claiming, quite loudly, during a drunken celebration with the remaining Order that he would rather resign than conform to the public's outdated perception of their political figures. Also, as he had told Harry, his wife would not hesitate to murder him if he removed it.

"Harry?" Kingsley began in his deep, calm voice. "Has something happened?"

Harry nodded slowly and took a deep breath while McGonagall drew up another chair with her wand. When Kingsley was seated comfortably Harry began discussing what he had learned in his office. Their reactions were similar to Ron's in their surprise and doubt.

"Good gracious." McGonagall whispered when Harry's voice faded into silence. She took a moment to compose herself before she continued. "How do you know you can trust Mr Malfoy's word Harry? You two hated each other in school."

For some reason, Harry found himself looking into Severus' dark eyes once more while he contemplated his answer. Snape was looking at him with calculation, his eyes narrowed. "I don't particularly like Malfoy." Harry began carefully turning back to McGonagall. "But I trust him in this. He suffered at Voldemort's hands too and was lucky to have made it out of the war alive; I know he doesn't want that life anymore."

McGonagall looked sceptical but Kingsley seemed as unfazed as ever. "You believe Akins faked his own death because he is preparing to mount an attack on the Ministry?" He summarised calmly as if he were simply discussing dinner options for the evening.

"Yes," Harry agreed "and I believe they will attack tomorrow during the memorial."

A shocked silence followed his words and Harry saw McGonagall and Kingsley exchange a fleeting glance. "He knows we intend to have as many Aurors at the memorial as possible. Since the Death Eaters resurfaced, we've been planning the security of the memorial for months expecting an assault. It will be the perfect time to attack the Ministry...when our defences are lowered." Harry finished confidently.

Kingsley sighed and shook his head. "Indeed...I should have listened to you, Harry. You knew there was a traitor in the Ministry."

"No," Harry pacified him. "I never once suspected Akins. I never would have had Malfoy not come to me." Kingsley nodded before he stood gracefully and readjusted his hat.

"I must return to the Ministry and round up the Aurors."

"It's already done." Harry interrupted quickly. "I told Ron what happened but he's waiting for your arrival before informing them."

Kingsley smiled and patted him on the back. "Excellent. Thank you, Harry." He paused and looked down at Harry solicitously. "You look exhausted. Have you slept at all since Azkaban was attacked?" Harry shook his head. "Then go home and get some rest. If you're right about this then I will need you in this fight."

Kingsley turned to McGonagall and bowed his head in farewell. "I will be in touch shortly, Minerva. May I?" Kingsley enquired, pointing to the fireplace.

"Of course, Minister." McGonagall said rising to her feet to see him out. However, when Kingsley had left she fell into her throne-like chair in an undignified heap. "This is most upsetting."

Harry nodded his head grimly. "Yes," Harry said, feeling the anger burning beneath his numbed exhaustion. "I never liked the man but I never would have suspected him of this."

"No, it's not just that." McGonagall replied carefully. Harry lifted his head in confusion when Snape made a derisive sound in the back of his throat and Dumbledore chuckled softly. McGonagall ignored them. "You see...It's...Well, he was a Gryffindor."

This time, Harry could not control his laughter.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** I really struggled with this chapter for some reason so I hope its ok. It's completely different from my original draft and writer's block is attacking me again so, again sorry for the delay, it was forces outwith my control :) I've read a lot of fanfiction on this site and some authors have quite short chapters while others are longer. Do you prefer shorter chapters or are you happy with the current length of mine? I can't decide if they're going on too long or not so your input would be much appreciated. I know I originally said that this was going to be a "reading the books" fic but I changed my mind. It is going to deal with time travel in a sense but I was thinking of using the pensieve and memories instead? I haven't seen it done a lot on here. Comments, opinions?


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:** This chapter contains quite a bit of violence so if you have a queasy stomach I would avoid reading :P It's rated M for a reason! You have been warned. Again thanks for the reviews, I really appreciate them. x x

**Disclaimer: **J.K Rowling owns the fantastic world of Harry Potter. I just can't accept that it's over, ergo...chapter 3 :)

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><p><strong>Chapter 3:<strong>

When it came, the explosion sounded rather insignificant - similar to the roll of thunder than the onset of destruction and chaos. It was a far cry from the bustling life that Harry had known when he had joined the Ministry four years ago. He had been young then but he was an adult; a man who had suffered terribly but was still filled with the ideas of honour and sacrifice that came with wearing the robes of an Auror, not surrounded by shattering glass and the tremulous multitude of screams that filled the grand Atrium.

It was not meant to be like this.

They had warning of the attack. They had been sending employees and visitors home since the early hours of that morning. Every Auror that was available was defending the entrances to the Ministry. Akins and his Death Eaters could not have gained entry...but they had. No matter what they did he was always one step ahead of them. No, it was not meant to be like this...

Jagged glass showered Harry in silver dust, stinging his face, as the force of the blast knocked him to the cold, wooden floor. Footsteps sounded around him as he struggled to his feet, the chilling screams of the crowd sending shivers racing over his skin and the deep red of blood a common yet sickening sight. Harry stumbled backwards blindly, grateful to feel the safety of hard stone beneath his outstretched hands as he forced himself against the steady wall and tried to calm his racing mind. He couldn't think. He could see and feel what was going on around him, but he couldn't make any immediate sense of it; his brain struggling to catch up with the events that were unfolding before him. It was futile.

Harry's eyes scanned the room searching for anything that would move him from his frozen state, clinging to the crumbling wall as if it were his life. He saw nothing for the smoke and dust that lingered in the air; burning his eyes and clogging his throat, making his chest tighten painfully. He coughed harshly trying to dislodge the smoke in his lungs and felt his stomach churn, instantly making him regret the rather large breakfast he ate only a few hours ago.

The sound of woman's scream nearby cut across Harry's rambling thoughts and his mind seemed to clear, spurring him into action. With fumbling motions, he raised his wand that had been lying limply against his palm and walked forward, trying to drown out the screams of the crowd. With a muttered word, the smoke cleared in front of Harry and he was confronted with the sight of men in black robes and masks duelling so fervently that their hands were a blur amongst the jets of light. Harry ran forward towards the group of cowering witches and wizards who had been seeking escape when the explosion hit, stunning the Death Eater who stood over them with his wand raised. Pulling them to their feet, he ushered them towards the fireplaces that lined the wall.

"Get out of here, quickly!" He roared above the noise that filled the air. A jet of light crashed into the wall above Harry's head. "GO!"

Harry moved forward and blocked the path of the two wizards that had tried to prevent their escape. Dodging curses easily with the skill that was entrained in him, Harry whipped his wand towards the man on the left, his curse hitting him squarely on the chest before he crumpled to the floor. With his defeat another moved in to take his place, their duelling so intense that Harry felt himself being backed into an empty corridor without realising he had taken a step.

Seeing an advantage, Harry pointed his wand to the glass cabinet filled with awards and medals and brought it crashing down onto one of the wizards, flattening him to the ground and causing his companion to stumble. Harry took his chance.

"Stupefy!" With his yell the unknown Death Eater was lifted off his feet and into the air before he crashed into the wall, his mask falling to the ground. With barely contained fury, Harry stared into the sunken face of a man he hadn't seen in over four years.

Amycus Carrow.

The man who lay unconscious at his feet looked almost unrecognisable to the man he had cursed in Ravenclaw Tower before the battle. He smiled with some satisfaction: It seemed that Azkaban could still destroy a man whether the dementors were present or not.

Harry tore his eyes aware from the wizard - not realising he was still pointing his wand at the unconscious figure, contemplating every painful curse he knew – with the loud bang and muffled yell that came from somewhere above him. The ground shook beneath Harry's feet and the ceiling began to crack; dust and rocks falling over his head. Flinging his body to the ground, Harry rolled swiftly out of the path of the falling ceiling and took shelter behind a large, stone statue that braced the wall. The ground continued to shake.

When the dust had finally subsided, Harry stood and surveyed the damage. Half the corridor had caved in on top of Carrow and the other Death Eater, blocking off the entrance to the Atrium. He had to return to the main hall and he was trapped. Harry moved down the corridor with hurried steps to find a stable part of the wall and blasted a hole through to one of the offices that had been vacated. Climbing over fallen furniture and stacks of parchment, Harry vanished the glass in the small window that over-looked the grand hall. A few feet from him he saw Ron struggling with a tall, muscular man, his robes stretched tight over his large frame; his hand closed around Ron's throat with bruising force. Ron's wand was nowhere in sight and his pale, freckled face was turning blue before Harry's eyes. Harry jumped up to the narrow ledge and landed on the ground running. His shoulder connected with the Death Eater who stumbled and released Ron without pause. Before he could raise his wand, Harry's fist crashed into the side of his skull and he fell to the floor. Ron had clambered to his feet and grabbed his wand from the ground, his hand massaging his throat as he coughed harshly.

"Are you alright?" Harry asked, running to his side.

Ron nodded and stretched his neck tentatively. "Yeah...thanks for that."

"No problem." Harry replied, his eyes glancing around at the duellers. Almost half of his department were there, duelling frantically with the Death Eaters - the two sides separated as if by an invisible line - jets of light passing back and forth lighting up the Atrium in an eerie glow.

At that moment, Harry reached into the pocket of his robes and pulled out a long thin tube; a brilliant yet idiotic plan forming in his head. Pointing his wand at his own throat he whispered "_soronus_" and lifted the tube into the air, pointing it towards the line of Death Eaters.

"AURORS. DROP!" Harry's voice roared above the noise and the Aurors scrambled to comply, most looking confused as they dropped to the floor. Harry squeezed the end of the tube - a product of Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes - and fired it towards the Death Eaters. A loud bang followed by a cloud of smoke exploded into the air and swirled around the heads of the remaining wizards that were standing. All at once, yells erupted from within the smoke and the Death Eaters raised their hands to their burning eyes.

"FORM A LINE!" His magnified voice yelled again before he removed the spell around his throat. The Aurors jumped to their feet and moved hurriedly, their heads lowered beneath the swirl of grey smoke. Harry ran forward and moved into the centre of the line of Aurors that almost stretched the width of the hall. Harry shouted to the men at either side of him. "Shield charms when I say now!"

Most of the Aurors looked at him puzzled, others frightened as the message was relayed but they stood firm; their wands pointed towards the cloud of smoke that was dissipating into the air and waited for Harry's signal. The smoke faded slowly and, as one, the Death Eaters raised their heads and ripped off their masks, their eyes red and swollen. Harry's heart was thudding in his chest and time seemed to slow as the Death Eaters lifted their wands and fired; some of their spells flying above their heads by the men that were temporarily blinded. At the same time, Harry screamed "NOW!" and yells of "Protego!" erupted from his men to the left and right of him.

It had worked.

The Death Eaters curses rebounded off their large, impenetrable shield and charged back towards them, sending them flying backwards into the air and landing painfully in a heap of bodies. Awed whispers and manic laughter echoed around Harry.

"Harry - that was bloody brilliant!" Seamus' voice yelled in his ear but Harry's attention was focused beyond the unconscious Death Eaters to the rest of the Atrium. The golden statue lay in pieces on the ground, parts of the ceiling and walls had collapsed and bodies were strewn across the rubble-covered floor.

They were outnumbered.

A flash of ginger hair caught his eye and Harry's hand shot out to close around Ron's arm. "Where's Kingsley?"

Ron blinked repeatedly in confusion before he hastened to reply. "He led a group to the North of the Atrium about ten minutes ago. They were coming in from the street entrance."

Harry nodded and bit his lip, his mind racing. "Were outnumbered Ron. We've lost the Ministry. Start moving the men out of here now. Get them out of here. "

Ron nodded, looking shocked before he ran back towards the others. His voice followed Harry through the hall as he started running towards the edge of the room, pressing his back against the wall; he was hidden from the view of the remaining Death Eaters.

"Fall back! Get to the fireplaces! Fall back!"

Harry darted forward, climbing over piles of rocks, moving through the shadows until he reached the North of the Atrium where it diverged slightly. Pushing away from the wall, he stunned two Death Eaters that had their backs to him. Realising his presence, a few of the Death Eaters moved towards him only to be blocked by Kingsley's team. From what he could see, more and more wizards were entering the building through a large gaping hole that once held the lift for the visitor's entrance. Harry took up duel with another masked Death Eater whose reactions were, thankfully, slower than Harry's and he was easily defeated. Harry moved forward again when he saw a flash of blue robes and black skin but a fist came out of nowhere and connected with his temple causing him to sway on the spot. Flashes of light danced behind his eyelids as Harry struggled to regain his balance. He stumbled and barely had time to defend himself before the blurred figure in front of him attacked, forcing him back into another spiralling corridor; separating him from the others.

Harry fought with all his strength but it seemed that when Harry defeated one Death Eater another took his place until Harry felt like he had been duelling for hours - his body exhausted and his breath coming out in pants - but he held on to the adrenaline that was pumping through his veins, forcing his limbs to cooperate.

"It's him! It's Potter!" A Death Eater screamed as he ran forward into the corridor and Harry knew now why he was being separated from the battle. They had been ordered by Akins to bring him in alive. Harry stumbled and curse hit him in the shoulder, slashing his robes and cutting his skin.

"He's tiring! Close in on him!" The voice of a woman shrieked, her tone laced with excitement.

To Harry's intense relief, he heard Neville scream his name from somewhere behind him and a jet off light passed over his right shoulder, blurring with his own curse, and the Death Eaters were knocked off their feet in a jumble of limbs. Hands grasped the back of his robes roughly and pulled him into crouching position behind the crumbled wall of one of the offices.

Neville's lip was bleeding and his robes were torn and singed but he looked to be relatively uninjured. Harry felt a trickle of wetness run down his cheek and realised that he was bleeding from a wound on his temple where the fist had connected with his head. He lifted his hand to wipe the blood away but his muscles had tensed and locked his arm to his side.

"Harry, we need to get out here! There's too many!"

"I know." Harry said in a defeated tone. "We lost, Neville." Harry flexed his tense arm and ran an agitated hand through his hair, pushing away his anger. There was no place for it now; he needed to focus on getting out alive. "I have two portkeys on me but they were only designed for one person at a time, maybe two."

Harry peered over the rubble into the Atrium at the end of the corridor, looking for a clear path to the fireplaces on the wall but Neville shook his head, following Harry's line of sight. "It's no good. They've blocked the grates and we can't apparate out."

"What about everyone else?" Harry asked, his eyes scanning the room for survivors. Neville shrugged tensely and wiped the back of his hand across his mouth.

"Ron got most of them got out in time before they shut the grates. There's still others duelling in the North Atrium and I saw him, Harry...Akins! He's here. You were right. It is him!"

"What about Kingsley and Ron?" Harry spoke over him quickly. He felt some relief to know that most of the Aurors made it out alive but he knew with gut-wrenching certainty that neither Kingsley nor Ron would have run out of the fight. Ron would have returned to the battle in search of him once he got the others out. Neville's face fell.

"The last I saw of Kingsley he was duelling Akins. I tried to get to him to help but I ran into you first. I haven't seen Ron since he was helping the others escape. That was about twenty minutes ago."

Harry forced down the sense of dread that filled him at Neville's words and focused his mind to the task at hand. He couldn't risk using the floo-system even if he could lift the blocks on the fireplaces. It wouldn't surprise him if they had placed any number of particularly nasty curses on the network for anyone trying to leave the Ministry. He didn't have enough portkey's to get everyone out safely and he couldn't summon another as they were protected against such charms by the Department of Magical Transportation to prevent illegal use. They would return to the battle and hope to the heavens that Kingsley and the remaining Aurors were unharmed. If he could pull them back from the Death Eaters, Kingsley could create a portkey large enough to transport all of them out. He was suddenly wishing with all his heart that he had learned how to create portkeys when he had joined the Ministry but then again, hindsight was an incredible thing. Between his emergency portkeys and apparition, Harry never foresaw an instance when he would be in a situation like this; trapped within his own Ministry during a turbulent battle with still so many of his fighters remaining. Harry turned back to Neville and opened his mouth to relay the plan but the words wedged in his throat.

"What-?" Neville asked seeing the look on Harry's face but Harry shook his head warningly, cutting across him.

"Quiet!" He whispered, trying to strain his ears to listen.

The air around them had frozen; his chest constricted as if steel coils were tightening around his lungs and the sound of rattling breath filled his ears. Harry's head turned to the side so sharply that he was surprised his neck hadn't snapped in two but he couldn't see; everything around them had been plunged into an impenetrable darkness and the screams of the surrounding battle faded into a thunderous silence. He was distantly aware that Neville had started trembling beside him and the strange, erratic gasp that escaped him seemed to echo throughout the corridor. Lifting his wand, Harry desperately searched for a happy memory but he was too late: that horrid, rattling sound grew louder in his ears and an icy breath stirred against the hairs on the back of his neck. Harry spun around so quickly that he stumbled back and tripped over the hem of his robes, his skull crashing against the rubble that covered the ground. With a shriek, Neville landed in a heap next to him, his knee digging into his left ribs. Harry blinked repeatedly, trying to stem the moisture that had gathered in his eyes and peered into the darkness.

His stomach turned over. Three dementors were towering over them; their grey, scabbed hands reaching out of their robes. Harry raised his wand at the same time they moved, gliding towards them in a swirl of black, filling him with a sense of hopelessness he couldn't shift no matter how hard he tried...so many dead...Ron missing...Kingsley trapped.

"Expecto Patronum."

But nothing happened. He heard Neville yelling at him as if from a distance but Harry could hear nothing except the high, cold voice that had filled his head...'_You have permitted your friends to die for you rather than face me yourself'_...

A shimmer of light brought Harry out of his nightmare. A thin silver mist erupted from Neville's wand before it flickered and faded into the darkness.

It was enough.

Harry grasped the glimmer of hope that had welled inside him with the failed attempt and, with his godson's face firmly in his mind; he lifted his wand and yelled "_Expecto Patronum!"_

The silver stag burst from his wand, galloping towards the dementors and they retreated in a haze of dread. The chilled air surrounding them had vanished as quickly as it had appeared but the sounds of the battle behind them seemed louder to Harry's ears in comparison to that deathly silence.

"I never can do that spell." Neville mumbled shakily but his trembling ceased suddenly when a low moan drew their attention across the hall. Harry's eyes widened as he turned towards the broken figure of his best friend trapped beneath the rubble of the fallen ceiling, his head bleeding profusely and his arm bent back at an awkward angle.

"Ron!" Harry shouted and both he and Neville ran towards him, putting up shield charms to protect themselves from any wayward curses. With a flick of his wand, Harry levitated the rubble off Ron and Neville pulled him roughly to his feet, his head rolling forward onto his chest.

With a muttered curse, Harry reached into his robes and pulled the emergency portkey from around his neck and wrapped the chain around Neville and Ron.

"Harry, what-"

"Neville, listen to me. I need to go back and help Kingsley and the others. This is a portkey. It'll take you to my house and from there you can floo to St. Mungo's. Ron needs help."

"No!" Neville replied loudly. "I'm not leaving you here, Harry!"

"Please, Neville." Harry pleaded, his heart thumping violently in his chest at the sight of Ron's pale face. "You need to get out of here. Ron needs help now! I promise I'll be right behind you. I have an extra portkey but I can't leave without Kingsley and the others."

Harry looked into Neville's hesitant face and was suddenly reminded of the night during the Battle of Hogwarts when Harry had lied to Neville about handing himself over to Voldemort. From the look in his eyes, Harry was sure that Neville was remembering too. With a silent apology, Harry lifted his wand and tapped the gold pendant quickly and stepped back as Neville and Ron disappeared in a whirl of colour. The last thing he saw before they vanished before him was the betrayed look in Neville's eyes.

Pulling off his outer robes, Harry stuffed his last portkey into his jeans pocket and ran towards the wall again, trying to silence his heavy breathing. He moved quickly, despite his trembling body, towards the North Atrium again praying that the duellers hadn't moved but when he returned to the spot he had last seen Kingsley, the air in his lungs seemed to freeze within his chest.

A few Aurors were still fighting amongst the group of Death Eaters that remained at the street entrance. He assumed the others were moving throughout the Ministry, collecting their spoils of war. To the left, completely oblivious to his surroundings was Kingsley, bravely duelling Akins and another wizard alone. But Harry could see he was tiring; his reactions were slowing and his face was twisted in pain.

Without thinking he ran forward in a blind panic to aid Kingsley and took up the battle with the masked Death Eater. Others closed in around them suddenly. Harry raised his shield but the force of their simultaneous attack was too strong and he tumbled backwards. A triumphant yell sounded from his right and Harry turned in time to see Kingsley fall to the floor, Akins towering above him. A flash of black brought Harry's focus back to his opponents who were moving closer to him. Harry raised his wand to defend himself but he was too slow: the man moved, raising the wand clenched in his hand and aimed high. Harry felt the crack of bone as his nose broke beneath the curse; the searing pain sending him to his knees. Heat spread across his face as blood flowed freely from his wound. A blow crashed into the back of his skull and his face slammed into the dust covered floor beneath, his wand slipping from his numbed fingers. Fists rained down on his back again and again. He struggled with the darkness surrounding him as long as he could; he needed to stay conscious, to defend himself, to save his friend.

_Kingsley could still be alive_, Harry prayed to himself. If only he could get closer and grab him, he could activate the portkey that was pressing into his thigh. He could get him to St Mungo's...

He heard the other Aurors screaming his name as they tried to break through the wall of wizards that surrounded him but they were unsuccessful. Stretching his hand forward, Harry searched blindly for his weapon but before he could reach his wand, his hand was crushed beneath the weight of a boot. He yelled out in pain hoping, praying that someone would hear and come to his aid. But there was no one, only the Death Eaters who hovered over his unprotected back beating him until he could no longer fight unconsciousness, all strength drained from him. Harry gave a shuddering breath and closed his eyes as the blackness consumed him.

When he woke, the bite of the rope wrapped around his wrists sent a bone-deep ache radiating from his shoulders to his fingertips. Harry's heart began to race. He didn't have to open his eyes to know he wasn't in the Atrium any longer. He could feel the darkness of the room even behind closed eyes, the echo of whispering in the distance. The ground beneath him was cold and damp, the ropes around his wrists uncomfortable, the resilient stone unmoving beneath his knees. His mind was still hazy from his unconsciousness and he struggled to gather his thoughts, to focus his energy-

He wasn't alone.

Harry tried to open his eyes – struggling against his swollen lids – and saw the crumpled form of a man curled on the floor beside him. He blinked repeatedly adjusting to the dim light that blinded him and his eyes tried to narrow in on his surroundings-

His heart dropped in his chest at the sight before him and the fervent whispering seemed to grow louder in his ears.

Harry was kneeling before the raised stone dais on which stood the ancient stone archway, the tattered veil fluttering slightly despite the stillness of the air; mesmerising him even as it frightened him. It was here that Harry had watched in horror as his godfather was taken from him. Now, years later, would Harry receive the same fate? The veil swayed enticingly before him until all thought seemed to evaporate and the only concern that troubled him was that his hands were bound behind him...he could not reach out and touch it.

'_No!' _Harry screamed to himself. He frantically tried to search his mind for the faces of his friends and godson - anything that would force his gaze away - but they were a thousand miles from him now and all he could see was the continuously swaying black veil. Harry started trembling; goosebumps erupted over his chilled skin, his breathing became erratic and for one blinding moment Harry was sure he heard Sirius whisper his name.

Thankfully, a soft laugh drew Harry's eyes away from the veil to the lowest tier where a large burly man sat, his leg bouncing with nervous energy as he cast Harry quick, probing glances. Harry opened his mouth to speak but blood had coated his tongue and the taste made him gag. The wretched noises drew the other man's attention and he got to his feet, his pace agitated and restless as he spoke.

"Good to see you awake, Potter. We were worried you were going to be out cold for hours."

The man's polite, almost comforting words shocked Harry out of his silence. He groaned and tensed against his bounds. "Kingsley." Harry said hoarsely, his voice sounding more like a stranger's than his own. "Where is he?"

The other man stopped in his tracks and glanced sideways to the unmoving man on the ground, his face gleeful. He lifted his foot and nudged the man in the shoulder forcing him onto his back. Harry's heart dropped as he looked into Kingsley's face and started yelling his name, willing him to move. It was pointless. The man was unresponsive, still.

Deathly still.

Panic spread through Harry and, despite the pain, he pulled at his wrists willing the rope to snap but it was too tightly bound. Annoyance built inside him in a blinding rage and he screamed until his voice cracked. "You bastards, I will kill you for this!"

Laughter rang through the room, bouncing off the walls in reverberation and for the first time, Harry realised that the remaining Death Eaters crowded the stone tiers around him, some still adorning their masks. A crash sounded from his right side and a man he recognised only too well walked into the centre of the room where Harry and the dais stood. It was Akins. He was older in appearance and less built than the man he stood next to but his stride spoke of long experience and assurance. He was holding a wand in his hand which Harry recognised as his own, spinning it between his fingers as if enjoying the weight.

"Glad you could rejoin us, Harry." The older man said, crouching down to Harry's level. "I apologise for my men's viciousness. You see many of them have been dying to get their hands on you since you murdered the Dark Lord." Akins finished, pointing his wand under Harry's chin with bruising force. "It seems you have stumbled upon us at a difficult time and I couldn't allow you to disappear before we had a chance to get reacquainted. If you cooperate you might not end up like our late Minister over there." He nodded in the direction of Kingsley with a sinister grin. He turned his head slightly and studied Harry's bloody face with interest before he continued. "Congratulations on being my successor, by the way. You've done a great job."

Harry felt a shiver of fear grace his skin when the masked Death Eaters started laughing hysterically. Akins joined in for a moment before he raised his hand for silence.

"Have you missed me, Harry?"

"You flatter yourself, Akins!" Harry hissed in response.

Akins shook his head. "You know Harry...I was like you once." He began, getting to his feet again and turning towards the archway. "I joined the Ministry thinking it would be a noble profession...protecting innocent people. You see, unlike the Dark Lord, I had parents who loved me, I had a family but they were murdered when I was ten. The men responsible were never caught and I swore to myself that I would spend the rest of my life hunting them down. It wasn't until eight years after I became an Auror that I found them."

He spun around suddenly, his face lined with hatred. "And do you know what I found Harry? The men who killed my parents were Ministry employees! They killed two innocent people because of a stupid grudge and then they were protected by the same people I vowed to stand beside! I was sickened...but...it opened my eyes." he finished, taking a deep breath to calm his anger. "Over night, the Ministry I thought I had known so well had changed in my eyes and I saw the truth. I saw that the men who had positions of power had only been fit to rule a jail cell. A corruption so deep, I could feel it in the air I breathed." Akins smiled reverently. "And then He returned and showed me way. He showed me that I was being used by the Ministry and the wizarding world. The Dark Lord was honest-"

"Honest?" Harry repeated incredulously. "Voldemort was anything but honest, Akins. If you believe that then you're crazier than I thought you were."

"Of course I am, Harry," Akins replied with a small laugh. "We all are." He finished lifting his arms to indicate to the men around the room. They laughed in return.

Akins walked back until he was standing close to Harry, towering over him, his head tilted to the side and a small smile tugging at his mouth.

"Do you remember the day we came here?" He asked softly and Harry's heart paused before re-doubling in strength, threatening to break through his chest. Akins smile widened. "You froze in the corridor when you realised where we were heading. I was curious why you feared this place." Turning on his heel, he looked back at the veil that fluttered slightly, without blinking. "Do you hear them whispering, Harry? I do."

Harry's eyes scanned the rest of the dimly lit room and saw that some of the Death Eaters were staring at the veil, entranced by its eerie movement while others just looked perplexed. "I looked into it. I wanted to know what could frighten the great Harry Potter, the boy who defeated the greatest wizard in the world, a boy who walked to his own death rather than let others suffer in his place." Akins stopped speaking and turned his head to Harry who was determinedly looking anywhere but towards the veil. "Sirius Black was killed here during that fiasco with the prophecy when you were fifteen." Akins continued and Harry forced himself to look back into those crazed blue eyes. "He was your godfather, wasn't he?"

Harry didn't answer. "Come now, Harry." said Akins. "No need for bad manners."

He sighed heavily when Harry still refused to speak. "It doesn't matter. I know he was. You see, I thought you feared this place because it would have brought back the horror of that night. I know different now."

Before Harry could blink, Akins had moved to his side swiftly and clenched his hair tightly in his gnarled hand, forcing his head back. "It's not that you fear death is it, Harry?" Akins whispered in his ear excitedly. "The reason you fear this room, that archway isn't because you're afraid of dying...it's because you're afraid that you'll want it a bit too much. Isn't that right, Harry?" With his painful grip, Akins turned his head until Harry had no choice but to look back into the rippling curtain before him. "After everything you've suffered through, you're struggling to find something to keep you going. Your friends and godson can only do so much-"

His words were cut off by a gruff laugh somewhere from behind Harry. "Godson?" A rasping voice asked and it sounded terrifying familiar to Harry. "That wouldn't be little Teddy Lupin, would it now? Remus Lupin's son?"

Akins cursed under his breath and released Harry's hair. When he was free, Harry turned his head in the direction of that snarling voice and was confronted with a repulsive sight. The man who spoke had walked towards the dais where Harry and Akins stood, his matted grey hair and whiskers covered in dirt and blood and when he smiled, he showed pointed, yellow teeth.

"Greyback?" Harry whispered. Fenrir Greyback licked his lips as he watched him and Harry felt his stomach turn. His eyes flashed back to Akins. "He didn't escape during the attack. Make another trip to Azkaban, Akins?"

Before Akins could reply, Greyback cut across him - his voice low and eager. "How is little Teddy, Potter? I've been looking forward to meeting him."

"Don't worry, Fenrir." Akins said. "You'll get your pound of flesh."

White, hot anger flashed through Harry's veins and he threw Greyback a look of fury. "You stay the hell away from my godson, Greyback!" Harry said through clenched teeth, his jaw trembling with the force of his fury. "Or I will kill you."

Akins laughed and pointed the holly and phoenix wand at Harry. "You're in no position to be making threats, Harry." He looked over Harry's head and jerked his chin, silently commanding Greyback to retreat; his footsteps echoing throughout the room as he obeyed. Akins looked back into Harry's green eyes.

"I'll make a deal with you, Harry. Join me...and you can kill him." He finished, pointing his wand to the figure behind Harry. Shocked whispers erupted around the room and an angry, strangled sort of sound came from the direction of Greyback.

"What?" Harry asked incredulously.

Akins smiled again. "I hated you, Harry. When you defeated the Dark Lord you took everything from me but in time I saw a way for us to carry on. You're a powerful wizard. You wouldn't have survived this long if you weren't. I could use a man like you-"

"I'll join you when hell freezes over!" Harry spat.

"After everything the Ministry has done to you over the years, Harry?" Akins said. "After everything it has done to your godfather and your friends? Why do you bother defending it? The Ministry and the wizarding world are using you like they did me! Everyone turned on you when all you wanted was to warn the world of His return...and what did they do, Harry? They slandered your name! The public turned on you and they will do it again... join me and-"

"Kingsley was a good man!" Harry interrupted, his voice shaking with restrained anger. "The people you murdered were good people. The Ministry changed with the war!"

"Oh come now, Harry. You don't think that this is just about the Ministry?"

"No." Harry responded. "It's about power. That's all you bastards care about."

Akins laughed. "It's all that matters in this world, boy. Join me and I can give you-"

"NEVER!" Harry roared over him, his chest heaving with the breaths that were coming thick and fast. Akins sighed and ran a hand through his greying hair.

"I regret it." he replied, shrugging. "I expected no less from you. Pity...but I will lose no sleep over it." He smiled then. "On to business then, Harry. You have chosen death but it need not be slow. You know what I want from you. You know what I will ask...where is the Elder wand?"

Harry looked into those hate filled eyes and knew he was about to die but he would not cave at this final hurdle. He would not leave the fate of the world he loved, the people he cared about at the hands of this madman and the most powerful wand in existence.

"It was destroyed." Harry lied. Akins bowed his head and studied the wand in his hand for a moment before he crouched before Harry again, a menacing smile on his lips.

"Handsome boy, aren't you Harry? The Chosen One...I bet the girls fall at your feet." Akins smiled and ran the tip of his tongue across his lip. "I wonder what people would say if they saw their brave hero now? Well, I know one thing, boy. Women won't fancy your looks after tonight, although that will be the least of your problems." He placed his hand on Harry's shoulder and squeezed it gently. "They say you can't die, Harry...we shall see."

He stood then with swift motions and nodded to one of the men who stood quietly in the corner of the large room. "Hold his head." He barked loudly and the man paused before stumbling forward, taking Harry's head in his large hands.

Akins looked down at Harry for a moment, twirling the wand in his fingertips. "I will make it quick, Harry if you tell me what I need to know." Harry looked up at him with pure hatred, despite the panic that was flooding him. "Where is the Elder wand?"

Harry studied the man before him for a moment before he spat at his feet, blood trickling down his chin. "I will never tell you."

Akins smiled and shook his head. "I could simply use Veritaserum Harry but, I must confess, I am an aficionado of...good...old-fashioned...torture. I can keep you alive for a long time and believe me, the scars you will have won't be looked upon with such favour as your lightning bolt...but you will tell me where you have hidden the Elder wand."

When Harry didn't reply, the man moved closer to him until he felt the cold tip of his wand against the heated skin of his right cheek. He struggled against the men but the hands holding him were firm, unmoving. Pain seared through his cheek as the wand slashed and cut through to the bone. Harry yelled with agony, praying that he would pass out soon and his torment would end but he remained conscious through his suffering; alone and unprotected. Blood poured down his neck and shirt front with each slash of the wand until he could do no more than sag helplessly against his captors. Several moments later his tormentor stepped back and admired his work. Harry could see his flesh coating the tip of his wand and in a dizzying move he was pushed to his side, the ropes still binding his hands behind his back. Kneeling next to him, the older man whispered in his ear; the warmth of his breath against his torn skin sickening.

"Why do you keep fighting, Harry?" Akins asked excitedly, his eyes wide and crazed. "Why suffer this pain? Is the call of the veil that strong to you?" He laughed softly. "Take all the time you need, boy. I am in no hurry."

Harry closed his eyes and listened to the sound of footsteps against the stone ground as Akins and his man walked away from him, leaving him on the floor; his body bruised and his face disfigured.

Harry was trembling and his face felt as if it were on fire. There was no escape. No hope for him. Death had haunted his steps since that fateful night in Godric's Hollow. He had escaped time and time again but his time had come; he could no longer cheat fate. Here, in this haunted place where Harry watched the only father he ever knew die before his eyes he would suffer the same end. Every muscle was aching and he was filled with an exhaustion that had nothing to do with tiredness. Compared to this suffering, death would be a blessed relief...

_'Get up, Harry!...'it isn't over yet'_

His heart stopped.

"Sirius?" Harry whispered shakily. Now, Harry was sure he had heard his godfather's voice whispering inside his head but this time he wasn't calling him towards death. He was telling him to fight. Was he going mad? Did he imagine it?

Harry opened his eyes and saw that Akins had moved several feet from him, his back turned to him as he conversed with a few of his men. The sound of shuffling steps brought Harry's gaze to his side. Greyback was towering over him with a hungry look in his eyes, evidently called by the scent of Harry's blood, his wand held limply by his side. Harry forced himself onto his back, his breathing ragged as he stared into those pitiless, yellow eyes.

_'Concentrate Harry!'_ Sirius voice whispered in his mind and Harry focused his energy to the bounds around his wrists. He had learned some control over his wandless magic since he had become an Auror but that was low-level spells, nothing this complex. But he would try. Screwing up his face as if the faint light was hurting him, he thought with all his might on vanishing the ropes, repeating the incantation over and over in his head. To his intense disbelief, Harry felt the rough material around his wrists disappear and his hands were freed. Harry didn't move a muscle, fearing that he would give himself away and fixed his attention on keeping his face indifferent.

"Fenrir" Akins called from the side of the room and Greyback tore his eyes away from Harry. "Keep that werewolf of yours in check-"

Harry moved. Jumping to his feet, he grabbed the wrist that held Greyback's wand and forced it back with such force that he felt the bone snap beneath his fingers. Cries of outrage sounded around him as the Death Eaters tried to stun and curse him but Harry dropped to his knees again before they could hit him, reaching into his pocket for the portkey as he fell; Greyback's wand clutched in his hand. The Death Eater's spells aimed at Harry hit Greyback repeatedly, enveloping him in multi-coloured light and he dropped to the floor with a strangled scream. Freeing the portkey, Harry rolled towards Kingsley's body but his blood ran cold when he heard Akins roar of fury and the curse that echoed through the hall. Harry tried to move but his reactions were too slow and the spell hit his left thigh.

Harry felt the bone crumble beneath his flesh and hot tongues of fire licked around his leg, burning him through the material of his jeans. He kept moving despite the pain; the red flames growing around him making every move, every breath, agony. He had never felt such pain, never thought such pain was possible. It was only the threat of another curse or worse that kept him moving.

With the last of his strength, Harry clutched the curved metal stone in one hand and stretched out his hand to grab hold of Kingsley's robes. His vision blurred in and out and he felt the hot flames travel up his leg as he activated the portkey in his hand.

He was never so relieved to feel the familiar tug behind his navel.

He was going home.

Harry landed on the floor of his drawing room painfully and released Kingsley. He knew it was possible that he could still be in danger, that the defences around his home had been penetrated but Harry couldn't muster the strength to care. The pain in his leg was building with every heartbeat until it took every effort to keep breathing.

"Master!" Kreacher's voice cried above him and he felt small hands rolling him onto his back. Neville yelled from somewhere nearby but Harry couldn't interpret the words because someone was screaming so loudly, it was all Harry could hear. It wasn't until his voice cracked beneath the strain that he realised that the person screaming was himself. The sound of fingers snapping and glass jars clinking echoed in the tense silence of the room.

"Such a dark curse, Master." Kreacher said shakily. Harry opened his mouth to respond but before he could he felt a cold, bitter liquid filling his mouth and pouring down his throat.

It was instantaneous. The hot flames cooled and disappeared in a rush of air but the pain stayed. The darkness seemed to be closing in on Harry and he struggled for breath.

"Master's friend will stay here." Kreacher said as if from a distance. "Kreacher will go to St. Mungo's and get a mediwitch to help Master Harry."

"No" Harry's voice croaked softly as the darkness pressed in on him. He stayed conscious long enough to say..."bring...no one...here...Kreacher."

His voice faded into nothing.

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><p><strong>AN:** Oh poor Harry...I'm as cruel with him as Jk Rowling is :P Hopefully that wasn't too violent for you all. Next chapter will be up in a few days and it looking like it'll be just as long if not longer...might have to cut it down, don't want people to fall asleep half way through on me :D

Constructive criticism is alway appreciated so...be nice! :) x x

Oh I thought I should mention how Kreacher knew how to treat Harry's wounds...he worked for a family of dark wizards and elf magic is strong so he knew what he was doing because he came across that particularly nasty curse before while working for the Blacks. We shouldn't underestimate the elfs...SPEW all the way :P


	4. Chapter 4

**N/A: **Getting bad at this updating malarky. *hides under her duvet* I'm very sorry, please stick with me. It's a good story or at least I think so anyway. I hate making people wait but real life is a tad more important than fanfiction unfortunately :( very very sorry.

This chapter was originally 12,000 words but after much agony over editing I decided to split it. I know it's quite short compared to the others. It felt too rushed and while I'm trying my best to get into the main story, this all leads into why Harry would try and change the past. He's not a selfish guy so he would have a better reason than he misses Sirius, Remus and Dumbledore. So expect another chapter after this of what is happening in present time and then we'll jump back. :)

Thanks a bunch for the reviews and the number of hits this story has gotten. Also to those who put me on your favourite stories and alert lists, you're very nice people...and very attractive, if I may say so... :D

Also, I got a comment asking about how angsty this fic is going to be and I'm sorry if I've made it too depressing but I really had to make it seem like everything is falling apart again for poor Harry for the rest of the story to make sense. My apologies if I've brought everyone down but it's not going to get any easier for our favourite bespeckled hero...Mwahahahahahaha, oh I am cruel :P

Anyway, I'm rambling (expect that a lot!) so onto chapter 4 :)

**Disclaimer: **I am not JK Rowling nor do the characters or the magical world belong to me, if they did I would not have killed off Sirius and Dumbledore!...but I can appreciate why she did it :( doesn't make the pain any easier though :P

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><p><strong>Chapter 4<strong>

Harry woke to the unwelcome intrusion of a voice. He grumbled slightly, content to remain in the darkness and silence but his visitor had other ideas. Harry narrowed his eyes against the bright lights of the white, sterile room and groaned loudly. His head was pounding, his stomach was turning and his body was terrifyingly numb.

"How are you feeling?" Neville's voice reached his ears in muffled tones from beside him. He felt his glasses being pushed onto his nose with shaky hands and he blinked several times, trying to adjust to the dazzling lights.

"Like I've just been tortured." Harry replied hoarsely. "Where am I?"

"Your house," Neville said, perching himself on the edge of Harry's bed. "Don't you remember? You arrived here over an hour after I left the Ministry with Ron. You were a mess, mate. You've been unconscious for nearly eight hours. You wouldn't let us get a medi-witch to help you and Kreacher threatened to stick my arse to the ceiling if I went against your orders. He brought you in here." His rushed words ended and he looked around the room in confusion. "It looks like your own private hospital wing."

Harry blinked repeatedly in confusion and focused on answering the one comment that he had the answer to.

"It's not safe for me to go to St. Mungo's." Harry responded carefully. His face felt as if it had been frozen and he struggled not to slur his words. "Kreacher is surprisingly good at healing, especially dark curses. Suppose it's from all the years of serving the Black family."

"Yeah." Neville replied with a tentative smile. "He's pretty handy to have around-"

Harry barely listened. Nothing in his head made any sense. What happened in the Ministry flitted in and out of his mind like a dream he had once but could no longer remember. Every time he tried to grasp it, it slipped through his fingers like smoke. It was frustrating. Harry turned away and watched the sunlight that filtered through the window, bathing the room in brilliant gold and listened to the howling wind beyond. The curtain lifted and fluttered as if a breeze had penetrated the solid glass before it settled once more. The image made the breath catch in Harry's throat and he could feel something niggling in the back of his mind, telling him that the sight meant something important...something he had forgotten. And then, as if someone had lit a fire inside his head, he remembered. The Veil.

Without warning, images of the attack came crashing down on him in a dizzying rush. The explosion - Ron unconscious - Kingsley falling - his capture and torture...

Harry closed his eyes at the pain that threatened to engulf him. He had tried to help Kingsley but he hadn't been quick enough. Now, their leader and friend was dead. Tears burned behind his eyelids at the loss but he did not cry. He hadn't cried in years. Harry squeezed his eyes tighter until his head was pounding but no matter how he tried, he couldn't rid himself of the image of Kingsley's broken body sprawled at his feet. He was sure the sight would be permanently etched in his mind.

"Mate?" Neville asked and Harry's eyes snapped open.

"What happened to Kingsley's body?" He asked suddenly, not remembering the last few moments of the attack. Neville bowed his head and inhaled deeply, as if composing himself, before he replied.

"You brought him back with you." Neville said with a shaky breath. "After Kreacher patched you up, I took him to his wife. It...it was horrible." He finished quietly.

Harry took a shuddering breath and closed his eyes again. "Ron?"

"He's fine." Neville interrupted quickly. "He was released from St. Mungo's a few hours ago. His arm's injured but nothing that won't heal soon."

"The Aurors?"

Neville shrugged. "We don't have a...final count yet but I think most got out."

Harry felt some relief at that but the grief of losing Kingsley was too raw in his mind for him to be truly happy. He shifted on the bed and beneath his numbness he felt his leg groan in protest. It felt strangely alien to him, almost like someone had attached another person's limb to his body-

_Shit..._

Harry felt as if a hand was gripping his insides as the memory of his torture became clearer in his mind; the curse that hit him echoing inside his head just as it had inside the death chamber.

It seemed as if Neville had read his thoughts because he asked, "What happened, mate?"

Harry took a deep breath and tried to steady his voice. "I found Kingsley duelling Akins and I tried to get him out but the Death Eaters attacked me before I could activate the portkey. He wanted the Elder wand – Akins." He added, even though he was sure that Neville knew only too well who 'he' was. "Kingsley was already dead by then. They had me bound but I managed to free my arms and get to the portkey and K-Kingsley but his curse hit me before I got out."

Neville cursed under his breath and slumped off the bed into the chair that had been placed next to him. His eyes were unfocused as he stared into the distance, his teeth worrying the skin on his now healed lip.

"What curse was it?" Neville asked quickly, turning his head back to Harry. "There must be a counter-curse. If we can figure it out, we might be able to heal your leg."

"No. It can't be..." Harry began wearily, feeling exhaustion pull at his eyelids. "How far did it spread before Kreacher stopped it? Will...Will I be able to walk again?"

"I don't know Harry. I'm sorry." Neville replied, sighing deeply, "Kreacher says he refuses to betray his Master's secrets-"

"It's alright." Harry cut across him quickly. "Kreacher knows his Dark Arts. If he hasn't found a cure I doubt my leg will ever heal, no matter how early it was stopped." He paused for a moment before he continued his voice barely above a whisper. "I guess I should be...thankful. If it hit me in the chest I probably would have died instantly."

"From what I could see, you-" Neville made an odd, gasping sound in the back of his throat. "You were...d-dying when you got here. If it hadn't been for Kreacher..." Neville's voice faded into silence but Harry could hear the rest of his words inside his head as clear as if he had yelled them.

_He would be dead_.

Harry lifted his hand and ran his fingers along the side of his cheek where his own wand hand cut viciously into him. It was rough to the touch and the skin was pulled tightly across the bone. He let his hand drop silently onto the bed and stared at the ceiling as if it held more interest.

"Th-the scar...it can't be healed either." Neville continued softly. "Kreacher managed to close it a little but...well; you always said that some magic can't be undone." An uncomfortable silence filled the room before Neville continued. "Listen mate, I know that you'll have trouble walking now but-" His voice faltered and he shrugged. "I mean look at Mad-eye, he lost a leg and he was still a brilliant Auror."

Harry closed his eyes again, suddenly feeling more exhausted than he had in years. Neville's hopeful voice was too much to handle and he found it strangely difficult to look him in the eye. It wasn't just that his leg would never be the same or that he now had yet another scar to add to his collection. That didn't bother Harry at all. It was the curse Akins had used that made him feel as if a block of ice was lodged in his chest. If he was right, if it was that curse, well...then Harry knew the implications more than Neville could. Of course, he couldn't have known what spell he had been hit with, but Harry did. As Neville rightfully said...some magic can't be undone. Somewhere beneath his numbed shock and calm words, disbelief welled up inside him. He did not want to believe it. He could not - not until he saw it with his own eyes. With clenched fists, he grabbed the sheets that were wrapped tightly around him and lifted them.

"Harry-don't-" Neville said in a constricted voice, placing a hand on Harry's forearm, preventing him from lifting the sheet.

"Let go." Harry said flatly and shrugged off the hand holding him immobile.

Neville conceded and slumped back in his seat, his hands falling into his lap uselessly. Swallowing thickly, Harry whipped the blankets off his legs and could do nothing but stare in horror. He was still wearing the jeans that he had on during the battle but the left leg was torn at his hip bone, revealing the wasted skin beneath. The area where the curse had hit was wrapped in bandages, coated in some sort of green substance that seemed pulse against his skin, but the rest of his leg was clearly visible. The scar started from the top of his thigh and convered the length of his leg before it stopped just above his ankle. His skin was raw and stretched tight over his deflated muscles and it looked as if he had been submerged in boiling water. It was shockingly red compared to the clean, white linen sheets.

A tremor moved through Neville's body before he looked away as if he were witnessing something indecent. Harry dropped the blankets and let his head fall to the pillows again. A heavy silence filled the room. Harry could hear his heart beating. Even outside everything seemed still. No sound of the roaring wind could be heard now. Turning his head, Harry gazed fixedly into the dark blue potion that sat on his bedside cabinet, until it filled his vision, and it seemed he was looking down into a black well of his own despair.

"I'm sorry, Harry-"

"It's done." Harry replied mechanically, coming back to himself out of the darkness, and finding to his surprise that it was not dark, and he could see the light streaming through the sunlit window. "No point crying over spilt potion."

He tried to smile but it never quite reached his lips. Neville frowned but before he could respond, Harry continued. "I doubt I'll be much use in a duel anymore but I can still be helpful."

Neville arched an eyebrow in question and Harry shifted so he was sitting back against the headboard. "I need you to round up the old Order and anyone else that can be trusted and bring them here." Harry finished, grabbing a piece of parchment and quill from his beside cabinet. He quickly wrote the location of Grimmauld Place on the page, tore it in half and handed it to Neville. "The old members are still the Secret-Keepers and can bring anyone they want to the house but you were never given the address so show any new members this and you'll get in."

Neville eyes quickly scanned the parchment once, twice before he lifted his head in confusion. "Twelve Grimmauld Place?"

Harry nodded. "It was the old Headquarters for the Order. The protective charms should still be up. Yaxley found out about it when he grabbed Hermione after we broke into the Ministry. We'll need someone to perform the Fidileus Charm again but it should be fine until then. What time is it?"

"Er-around half six in the evening, I think."

"We'll meet at nine tomorrow morning, that should be long enough-"

Neville cut across him. "Mate, you...you need to rest, you're still hurt."

"There's no time, Neville. Just do it, please." Harry finished, looking deeply into Neville's eyes. He hesitated a moment before he nodded and slipped the piece of parchment into his robes. Harry sank back into the warmth of his pillows and sighed. "Just try not to lose the parchment, alright."

Neville laughed softly. "Can't promise anything." He replied, shifting in his seat before he stood. "Are you sure you don't want me to stay here for a while?"

"No, I'm fine. We need to gather the Order as quick as possible."

"Alright, but you need to sleep until tomorrow. Kreacher said to drink that if you're in any pain." He finished, pointing to the flask on the cabinet.

Harry did not argue with Neville as he turned to leave, his footsteps echoing through the hallway until there was nothing but silence. He closed his eyes as a wave of exhaustion consumed him again, feeling nothing but the constant numbness through every inch of his body. He knew the pain would come later; the pain of his wound, his mistake and the realisation that would destroy him. It would come later but not now.

Harry closed his eyes but no matter how tired he was, he knew he couldn't sleep. He refused to stay here, confined to his bed like an invalid, reliving the events of the day over and over in his mind until he felt something over than this numbed disbelief. It was quiet now; too quiet...and he couldn't bare the silence.

Pulling back the covers, Harry pushed himself into sitting position and as gently as he could, tested his leg beneath his weight. With a hiss of pain, he collapsed on the edge of the bed again; his leg throbbing. He groaned and knocked back the potion that was next to him. It felt like ice was slidding down his throat and he shivered violently. To his relief, the pain eased and he was able to put some weight on his leg but he didn't dare try and stand without help.

"Kreacher." He said, and he was surprised that his voice was so calm. There was a loud crack and the house elf appeared out of nowhere at the foot of Harry's bed. He was wearing his usual fluffy towel and the large, gold locket bounced on his chest as he rushed to Harry's side.

"Master should be resting." Kreacher mumbled under his breath as he tried to force Harry back into lying position. "Master needs to sleep to get-"

"I don't need to rest, Kreacher." Harry spoke over him firmly, resisting against the small yet firm hands. "I'm not going to get any better; you know that as well as I do."

Kreacher wrung his hands together and took a step back from Harry's bed, his head bowed. "Kreacher knows, Master. Kreacher tried everything but he could not remove the curse. Such a dark curse."

"You did well." Harry tried to smile but again he couldn't quite manage it. "I'm going out. Can you please get me some clothes?" Kreacher's head snapped up so fast his large ears flapped uncontrollably. He opened his mouth to protest but Harry cut across him. "That's an order, Kreacher" He finished gently. Kreacher looked stricken but disappeared and returned with Harry's clothes and what appeared to be a walking-stick.

"Thanks." Harry mumbled as he pulled the stained shirt off. He knew that he needed to see Andromeda - her and Teddy were at risk now whether Frenrir survived the attack or not- and find a safe-house for them. He would need to prepare for the meeting tomorrow. Now that Kingsley was dead, the magical world would look to him for leadership. It had been the same after Dumbledore had died. The world needed their saviour again but it was a role that Harry could not fill. He did not have the answers but Harry knew in his heart there was only one place he could go to seek help. But...first things first.

Harry turned back to Kreacher and took the shirt he was offering. "I need a mirror as well."

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><p>Ah, manly awkwardness...have to love it. :) By the way my friend was reading this the other day and was asking about my interpretation of Harry's character in this so I thought it would be best to explain here. In my eyes, I can see that Harry would be similar to the Harry we see in book seven when he is in the company of friends but when he is in a professional setting, such as chapter 2, he would behave very much like Dumbledore. Hence the difference in his speech and attitude between the chapters. That is the worst thing about trying to write another author's character- it's very hard to keep them IC. Hope I'm not failing too much. :(<p>

Reviews make me smile...and I'm sad, so review! Emotional blackmail too much perhaps? lol


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:**Howdy all, since you were all so impatient to see Sirius... I decided during my usual quicky editing to put this up. Don't panic, this isn't the end we'll hear from Harry. It'll jump between time periods quite a bit in this story. Hopefully it won't confuse you too much. :) Again, thank you to everyone who reviewed. It's great to hear everyone's opinions.

**Disclaimer:** I am not Jk Rowling, it's bad enough that I have to deal with it everyday without you lot going on about it! :(...lol, ah I am easily amused but as always, none of the characters are mine, only the plot which as its going I hardly wonder why anyone would consider stealing it. In the off chance there is one looney bin out there...paws off!

Enjoy! :)

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><p><strong>Chapter 5<strong>

June 17th 1996:

"Interesting aroma, Padfoot." The man on the doorstep said. "I wouldn't have thought stale whiskey would have been a popular choice."

Sirius Black, who had just woken from a nap and still feeling only half way into the real world, didn't have the slightest idea what to say. This was never the case whether he was half asleep or not; he was a Marauder and the first thing he had learnt at school was the art of snappy comebacks. He opened his mouth, found no clever retort, and so closed it again with a less than eloquent grunt.

He had been awoken quite abruptly by the sound of the door opening and closing. After pulling himself from the sofa, Sirius walked down the stairs and came face to face with his old friend, who was now peering at him with a mixture of amusement and concern.

"I wasn't expecting you." Sirius finally said. It was the first thing he had said since he had woken up and it sounded incredibly stupid, even to his own ears. Remus only smiled.

"So I see." He said. "I'm not stopping, I'm afraid. I've just come to give you this."

He held out his hand, and for the first time Sirius realised that there was something in it. It was a sheaf of paper. But not just any old paper; it was a rolled up _Daily Prophet_. After spending over a year with the thing shoved into his robes, he never failed to recognise it. Especially when it was unwelcome.

"You know I don't read that crap anymore." Sirius croaked with a voice that had been long out of use. He turned and walked down to the kitchen, speaking as he moved. He could hear Remus following him. "Anything of interest will come up in the next meeting."

"Hence the reason I'm giving it to you." Remus replied mildly, closing the door behind him. "Dumbledore is coming by tonight."

"Wonderful." Sirius said.

Remus ignored the sarcasm. "It seemed important but he asked that only you and I be present."

That woke him up and with clenched gut, his mind flashed to Harry. "Has something happened?"

"No, nothing has happened." Remus reassured him and Sirius breathed a sigh of relief. "Well, that depends of your definition of _something_." He continued and held the paper out once more. Sirius had reached out a hand to take it before he scowled and shoved his hands into his pockets.

"I'm not taking that," Sirius said, and part of him had to marvel at how obliging a man could be. When someone held something out to you, whether it was a Order of Merlin or a bag of Hippogriff dung, your first instinct was to take it.

"For goodness sake, Sirius." Remus said calmly, thrusting the paper against his chest but not releasing it. "It's not going to kill you."

"It might piss me off, though." Sirius grumbled but he reached up and grabbed it nevertheless. He stared down at the roll briefly before he tucked it under his left arm.

"It is not exactly difficult to do that these days, my friend."

"And here I thought my endless calm was my most endearing quality." He replied, his voice flat.

"Amongst many others, I assure you." Remus responded. He tilted his head to study Sirius for a moment before he sighed. "How many times do I have to tell you to snap out of this? You won't be trapped here forever, Sirius."

"Then I'm biding my time until then." Sirius said with forced politeness. "Not much else I can do, is there?"

Remus shook his head. "And what about Harry?"

"What about Harry?" Sirius asked with narrowed eyes. "He's safe."

"He's worried sick about you." Remus spoke in the dry tone of a man who is only stating a fact. "This is the last thing he needs with everything that is happening."

"I know what my godson is dealing with, Remus." Sirius snapped. His voice had taken on a rough edge, and he was surprised to find himself on the edge of real fury. But, he discovered, not _completely_surprised. He hadn't exactly been known for his self control and what little he had, had quickly disintegrated since he had returned to this house. "I have firsthand knowledge after all."

"Precisely." Remus said. "You don't even realise how alike you two are. And you drinking yourself into oblivion isn't going to help him. Or you, for that matter."

"Really?" Sirius replied bitterly. "Shall we make a list of the godfather duties I have fulfilled? Then again, it wouldn't exactly be long, would it? Perhaps it would be better to list the things I _haven't_ done. If you can find enough bloody parchment, that is!" He fell silent and, for a moment, the only sound they could hear was the scuttling coming from behind the skirting boards. Sirius suddenly felt weary. "Molly is right. She's more of a parent than I'll ever be. If I'm not stopping from getting hurt then I'm hurting him because I don't ever learn when to shut my mouth. Maybe he'd be better off without me."

"Do you really believe that?" Remus asked sadly. "Hasn't he suffered enough?"

"Just leave me alone, Remus. Take your coddling elsewhere."

Remus face hardened. "I'm about to do something to you that I haven't since we were kids but you've forced my hand."

Sirius arched an eyebrow in question and was half-expecting the man to lift his wand but instead, he grabbed the paper from under his arm and smacked him across the head with it.

"What the-?" Sirius said, raising his arms above his head to protect himself from another blow. When none came, he lifted his head to glare at Remus who was looking incredibly satisfied with himself. Sirius growled. "You bloody mangy wolf."

"I grow tired of this attitude." Remus continued mildly, but Sirius could hear the gravity in his tone. It was not the first time they had had this conversation and he was sure it would not be the last. Although, the previous encounters had never resulted in violence, at least not on Remus' part. It seemed the man's unwavering calm was finally tiring. "I am aware of what being imprisoned in this house is doing to you but, quite frankly, I am sure it hardly compares to twelve years in Azkaban. Now stop this incessant self-pitying, clean yourself up and do something useful for a change." He finished thrusting the paper back towards Sirius who snatched it from his grasp.

"Why people insist that I am the violent one I will never know."

"Perhaps because you're the only one who can try my patience?" He responded, his eyes teasing. "You know that there is more to fighting this war than brawn, Padfoot. This," he said, waving a hand in the direction of the _Prophet_, "is just as imperative. You're more intelligent than half the order when it comes to war, even though you don't like to admit it, and your time would be better spent helping us than wallowing-"

"Alright, alright!" Sirius cut across him, feeling annoyance building in his chest again. "I know. You can stop lecturing me already..._Professor_. I'll read the damn thing if it'll make you happy."

Remus smiled. "Exceedingly." He pulled out the battered pocket-watch and frowned slightly. "I should go. Dumbledore and Severus should be here at eleven."

Sirius' head snapped up. "Snape?" He spat. "You never said anything about _him_."

"And it was completely intentional." Remus replied with a small smile. "I know this is the first time you've seen him since he stopped giving Harry Occlumency lessons, so...try not to kill him, alright?"

"Don't give me your sanctimonious bullshite, Remus." Sirius said. "You were as pissed as I was when Harry told you."

"Yes." Remus frowned. "But I've calmed down since then and I know that throwing daggers at each other is no way to resolve it."

Sirius grinned viciously. "I'm willing to test that theory."

"Oh, I'm sure you are." Remus said lightly. "I'll be here by eleven or earlier. Try and do something productive while I'm gone."

"I'll be a good little boy, I promise." Sirius said animatedly, grabbing the paper from under his arm and raising it to his forehead in salute. "I'll colour-code my ideas and everything."

Remus rolled his eyes in exasperation. "I'm glad to see you can amuse yourself, Sirius."

"Oh yeah, can't you tell?" Sirius asked, dropping his arm to his side again. "I'm laughing all the time."

A slow smile found its way onto Remus' face. "Well if life doesn't give you a decent game to play -"

"-then invent a new one," he finished the old Marauder saying, and they both laughed. Sirius found that even the laugh hurt. They knew each other, all right. Despite the mistrust, the betrayal and the years of separation, it was so easy to fall back into the friendship they once had. Wasn't that what the years together were for? And why it hurt so much when that relationship could end so effortlessly, never to be fixed. Not completely anyway. Forgive and forget...wasn't that the old saying? Forgiveness they had accomplished but he doubted either of them had forgotten. Hurt was like that. It never forgot.

After all, Remus hadn't been able to forget the one mistake would haunt him for the rest of his life. He had almost killed Snape and ruined Remus' life, all because of one stupid decision as a kid. And with that one decision, one of his closest friends had believed him a murderer for twelve years, so convinced of his guilt that he hadn't even tried to speak with him. Sirius had known it when he looked into his eyes the morning after, when he had learned what Sirius had done to Snape...their friendship had changed forever. Along with the sight of James and Lily's bodies the night they died, the fight between himself and Remus had been another popular memory for the dementors to bring out in him. _"How could you do this to me, Sirius? To Snape? Do you really hate him that much? Or are you just punishing me for being a werewolf? You know what? You are just like your family...so twisted and dark. I don't know how you can live with yourself!"_

"Sirius?" Remus said, and for a moment Sirius took no notice, confusing his real voice with the voice in his mind...the voice of memory. Or was it? He knew that Remus was furious with him after that particular event but would he have gone so far in his wording? It _seemed_ like a memory, but he couldn't be sure. Wasn't it at least possible that he was recalling a hallucination that he had had during his imprisonment? The dementors had that effect after all. Even when all you were left with were the worst experiences of your life, they still twisted them in some way to conform to your own fears. That was something they had never taught in Defence against the Arts.

Or, a more terrifying thought was that it was something his mind had created since he had been forced to remain in this house...

_Merlin, I hope not...otherwise, I'm as crazy as everyone thinks I am._

"Sirius, are you okay?" Remus asked. He placed a strong hand on his shoulder, breaking him out of his trance.

"Yes," he said, and then, abruptly: "I'm fine. You should get going. I'll see you tonight."

Remus hesitated, opening his mouth as if to say something but, after a moment, closed it with a nod. He turned to leave but stalled at the door to the kitchen, his hand slack around the door knob. "I don't think Molly is right." He said abruptly.

Sirius frowned. "About what?"

"There is no doubt in my mind that Molly cares for Harry," He spoke hesitantly as if he were weighing his words carefully, "but she will never understand him. She doesn't know what it is like to feel isolated, to have the world despise you, to fear something dark inside you even if you try to control it." Remus paused and gazed at the far wall unseeingly. From his pained expression, Sirius was sure he wasn't only referring to himself and Harry. "You're so afraid of replacing James that you're forgetting how to be a godfather. Harry isn't a child anymore, Sirius. He doesn't need someone to tuck him in at night or ground him for misbehaving. He needs someone who can understand him completely. Molly may have known Harry longer but you're the one he turns to." He sighed heavily and ran a tired hand over his face. "Whether we like it or not, one day Harry will be central to this fight. The person who guides him through it? Well...it seems to me they will be doing a lot more for this war than any of us."

Sirius couldn't speak over the lump that had formed in his throat but Remus understood and, with a shaky smile, exited the kitchen.

"Let's hope he knows what the hell he's doing then." Sirius whispered to himself before he followed Remus to the front door. The sunlight streamed into the gloomy hallway as Remus stepped over the threshold and Sirius closed his eyes, enjoying the warmth on his skin.

"A bath wouldn't go amiss, either." Remus added gently but disappeared before Sirius could respond.

Standing on the doorstep, Sirius watched the children playing on the grassy area in front of the house, blissfully unaware that a wanted criminal was standing only feet from them, invisible to their eyes. He envied them. They weren't doing anything very interesting, but then, neither was he. It was their innocence he envied. He would give anything to go back to that time, even if it meant he had to suffer his family's cruelity all over again, he would do it. If he could undo his mistakes, he would anything. With a grimace, Sirius closed the door but realised at the last minute that he had been too forceful and it slammed with a deafening crash. The curtains covering his mother's portrait whipped open and a piercing scream filled the hallway.

"YOU!" the portrait shrieked, her eyes bulging inside their sockets. "SHAME OF MY FLESH! LEAVE MY HOUSE AND NEVER RETURN! YOU DISGRACE-"

"OH SHUT UP!" Sirius yelled in return and raised his wand without thinking. A loud bang erupted and then there was silence.

Sirius smirked when he realised that his mother had fallen silent, her mouth opening and closing uselessly, resembling a fish out of water. It had only been a handful of times that silencing charms had worked on his mother's portrait, once by Sirius in his anger at Mundungus Fletcher, after he had abandoned Harry during the summer, and the remaining times by Dumbledore. It was always temporary solution before the foul woman found a way to scream obscenities at the residences of twelve Grimmauld Place but the few hours of satisfaction had been well worth her fury once the spell had worn off.

"Ha! Not so worthless now, am I? You mad old bat." Sirius said smugly, smacking her in the nose with the rolled up paper. She twitched violently and went into another tirade, if her crazed expression was anything to go by but Sirius had turned away and was walking towards the stairs.

He tossed the_Prophet_ on the stack of old newspapers on his way by, went back to the sofa in the drawing room, lay down again, and was asleep in five minutes.

He dreamed of Azkaban. He slept a lot these days and when he did, he dreamed of Azkaban so much that waking up to the sound of his own hoarse shouts no longer surprised him. He only hoped it would pass once his name had been cleared.

**HPHPHP**

Sirius stood in the kitchen, hands in his pockets of his trousers, looking at the paper he had discarded earlier and wondered, not for the first time, if madness was contagious. Perhaps long exposure to the condition had that effect. After all, he was more than convinced that he had lost his mind long ago in Azkaban. He had even come to grow fond of his somewhat mental instability and preferred to label it as a 'quirk' but, after nearly a year of waking up to the dark, dismal walls of the noble house of Black, he wouldn't be surprised if he opened his eyes one morning to the familiar sight of his prison bars. Surely he wasn't _that_ crazy? And yet here he was, standing in his drawing room, staring at a rolled up piece of paper as if it was inflicted with a particularly nasty curse. He didn't want to read the bloody thing. Between being falsely accused and his godson's name being slandered, he could barely resist the urge to rip the blasted rag in half every time he came in contact with it.

Sirius shrugged his shoulders and was about to turn away, when a movement from the corner of his eye stopped him. Harry's face was smiling up at him sheepishly, trying to hide behind the two month old _Daily Prophet_ that lay across it. It was the edition of _The Quibbler_ that contained Harry's interview. He had never been so proud of his godson than when he had learned that he had given the interview. Sirius knew the courage it would have taken for Harry to go through it all again. He was so like his father at times. In one article, Harry had done more for their cause than the Order had done in months. And here Sirius was, terrified of reading the daily newspaper...he felt weak in comparison to his fifteen year old godson and resolved himself to "getting a grip" as people had been telling him to do. And so, with a deep breath to prepare himself for the worst, he took a seat at the head of the table, a bottle of Firewhiskey in hand.

He took a sip of whiskey, then picked up the paper and nearly spat out the mouthful of drink as he looked at his own image screaming at him from the front page.

**Gringotts Break-In. Sirius Black Suspected.**

He read the first sentence, then the second, then the third, and for a few moments clear thought ceased.

'Oh bollocks,' Sirius said, and let the newspaper fall from his grasp. His arm struck the bottle of Firewhiskey and it overturned with a bang, splashing across the table and running down to the floor. 'Oh BOLLOCKS!' he yelled.

With a loud_crack_, Kreacher came in a hurry, surveyed the situation, and, with a twisted smile, said: "Master is clumsy. Kreacher thought from the sound that maybe Master had cut his own throat."

"That's enough of your bile." Sirius spat, reaching behind him for the dish towel that was hanging over the counter top. "Go back and crawl into whatever hole you've been living in!"

"Kreacher lives to serve, Master." And with an irritatingly low bow, he disappeared from sight.

Sirius was half way through cleaning up the mess he had made before he realised he could simply vanish it. Twelve years of living without a wand could do that to a man. He had forgotten who he was after the first few years. Sirius Black, wizard, Marauder, godfather and friend had vanished until all that was left was a shell of the innocent man he knew he was. He had only acquired a wand earlier this year, courtesy of Dumbledore of course, but too often than not he simply returned to doing things the difficult way. Difficult, not INSANE! He had no reason to ever break into Gringotts. He was wealthy enough. And what other reason would he need than that?

_True, being reckless was never you're style,_the interior voice ridiculed him.

"Fuck off," Sirius told it - one of the few advantages to being alone, so far as he could see, was that you could talk to yourself out loud without having to worry that everyone thought you were crazy. Then again, he wondered why he ever bothered controlling himself. Most people believed he was crazy anyway.

_Well...if the shoe fits._

Despite himself, Sirius laughed but stopped when it reached his own ears. It was a little too manic for his liking. Throwing the soaked dishtowel in the sink, he sat back down and reluctantly read the article again. It didn't make him feel any better the second time around.

The Ministry of Magic has issued a warning to report a disturbance in one of the high security vaults last night. Gringotts goblins insist nothing had been taken as the wizard in question had been interrupted but escaped before he could be apprehended. Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge is carrying out the investigation with the goblins to discover the identity of the culprit. Fudge has stated that mass-murderer, Sirius Black, who had been sighted in London earlier in the year, is a suspect.

"I didn't do this." He whispered to the empty room, hating that he sounded if he was trying to convince himself of the fact. He knew he hadn't done it. But the world did and that was enough to put him in a foul mood. Rolling up the paper again, he flung it on the counter-top and found himself desperately wishing he had a pack of cigarettes.

**HPHPHP**

Deciding it wouldn't be good form to stay in the kitchen and drink the remainder of his Firewhiskey, Sirius went off in search of a cigarette and found himself in his bedroom, standing before the large desk that occupied the right side of the wall.

He sat down and began to rummage slowly and thoroughly through the drawers of his desk. It been solely his domain as a child; neither his parents nor Regulus had ever set a hand to it, and the drawers were full of a life's worth of accumulated rubbish. It had been fourteen years since Sirius had had a smoke, and if there were any cigarettes left in the house, this was where they would be. It's not as if his parents would have indulged in such "filthy muggle habits." If he found some, he would smoke. If he didn't find any, that was all right too; going through his junk was soothing. Old papers and books from his days as a student, broken Zonko products, chocolate frog cards and empty packets of sweets made up the bulk of the contents. He was just about to accept defeat when he lifted an old Charms textbook, and there, beneath it, was a pack of cigarettes. It was old, crumpled but definitely not empty. He reached for the pack and was about to stand when his eyes caught the small, hidden panel in the back of the desk.

Sirius had forgotten about that. When he had been a child, he had used it for anything he didn't want his parents to take away from him. When he had returned to the house as an adult, he had placed the only thing that Remus had recovered from his flat after he had been arrested. A box containing photos and letters. Sirius hadn't looked at them since he had placed them there nearly a year ago. He didn't know why he wanted to now. Perhaps to remind himself of who he really was; not the murderer and thief the world was trying to make him. With a tap of his wand, the panel slid into the wooden back to reveal the hidden space behind.

With slightly trembling hands, he opened the battered box and lifted out the stack of photos that rested inside. He shuffled through them softly, smiling now and again at the memories they had brought back. He stopped suddenly at the picture of himself, Remus and Harry. It had been taken when Harry was eight months old, after Lily had insisted that he was too young to start walking. Naturally, Remus and Sirius had taken that as a challenge, and Lily had captured the moment Harry had taken his first steps - assisted, of course; Remus holding his small arms above his head while Sirius had placed one tiny foot in front of the other, his face screwed up in concentration. Sirius chuckled. It seemed Remus was teaching Harry long before he had become his professor. Putting it to the back of the stack, Sirius flipped through pictures of the Marauders at school, Lily and James' wedding, photos with some of the old members of the Order, most of them now deceased.

Sirius stopped at another photograph, this one showing Sirius and James on the sofa laughing at some joke or other, Sirius slightly reclining against the armrest with Harry sleeping against his chest. His little godson had always been happiest napping across him, his small hands clenched in his long hair, much to Lily's amusement...

_"I swear he sleeps better on you than he does in his own bed." Lily said with a smile. She bent over Sirius and lifted Harry into her arms. He fussed a little at the disturbance but stilled again once he had settled into the crook of Lily's neck, her hand running up and down his back gently. "I'm sure it won't be long before you'll have your own little ones running around."_

_"Kids?" Sirius croaked. "Hold your Hipogriffs woman; I can barely handle being a godfather most of the time."_

_"But you're so good with him." Lily said with a frown, running her hand over his hair._

_"Yes, because I can give him back at the end of the day."_

_"Don't listen to him, Lily." James said with a smirk. "If it wasn't for this war, Sirius would have nicked Harry long ago. Might I remind you of the little incident when he tried to kidnap him a few months back? Brilliant plan hiding him under your robes, by the way."_

_"That would have worked just fine if he hadn't started to sneeze." Sirius scowled at James. His expression softened when he turned back to Lily. "The only company Harry will have is from his own brothers or sisters. Besides, don't you usually need a second party to have children?"_

_"I have every faith you'll settle down one of these days, Sirius Black." Lily said confidently. "You just haven't met the right person yet."_

_"Ah, but the only woman I ever loved casually married my best friend and broke my heart." Sirius said, placing his hands over his chest._

_Lily laughed. "She still loves you though."_

_"Yeah...in a horribly asexual way."_

_"Well you can't blame the woman for having standards." James_ _said, ruffling his hair slightly._

_"Merlin help us." Sirius muttered under his breath. "I take it you're not referring to yourself, Prongs?"_

_"Git."_

_"Wanker."_

_"Hey!" Lily scolded quietly. "There will be no bad language around the baby, thank you."_

_"He doesn't understand what it means, Lily." James said._

_"It doesn't matter. He's picking everything up lately. I still haven't forgiven you for teaching him the F-word, Sirius."_

_"That was unintentional." Sirius said, raising his hands in surrender but he had to bite down hard on the insides of his cheeks to stifle a wild bray of laughter. To laugh now would be the worst thing he could do, because it had been unintentional. Not that Lily had believed him at the time. Suffices to say, she had been less than amused when Sirius had returned Harry home after visiting Dumbledore's office and, quite innocently, responded to Lily's greeting with "Foowke." Two weeks later, he still had trouble sitting on his left side. "It is my fault Harry can't pronounce Fawkes properly?"_

_She mumbled slightly in disbelief but let it go for the time being and returned to their previous conversation. "You could try having a meaningful relationship with a woman." Lily reprimanded him gently. "One that involves conversation."_

_"Excuse me." Sirius huffed playfully. "I'll have you know that all my relationships are meaningful."_

_"Sure." James snorted. "Two hours of meaningful se...sentimentality." James corrected quickly when Lily glared at him._

_"Come along, Harry." Lily said softly, gently rocking Harry back and forth. "Let's put you to bed before your father and godfather find any more ways of corrupting you. Heaven forbid you turn out like either of them." But her words had lost their malice with the slight twitching of her mouth as she fought off a smile. Her eyes softened as she turned back to Sirius. "Do you want to stay?"_

_"Yeah, why not?" Sirius agreed, leaning back against the cushions and throwing his arm across his forehead. "The only thing waiting for me at home is an infected sink."_

_James laughed and clapped him on the shoulder. "Sleep well, Pads." He took out his wand and, with a flick of his wrist, the lights dimmed again. Sirius turned his head to watch the progression of the small family leave the room. At the doorway, Harry opened his eyes and peered sleepily at Sirius over his mother's shoulder. Staring into the vivid green, Sirius waved his fingers in farewell and smiled as Harry blinked at him happily._

_"Night Harry." He whispered into the silence of the room._

Shaking himself into the present, Sirius threw the pictures back into the box and returned it to its hiding place. He knew without doubt that it had been real memory. It had been two weeks before Lily and James had been killed...the last time he had spent any real time with Harry before he was thrown in Azkaban. After that night he had been so preoccupied with his brilliant and cunning plan of using Peter as their secret-keeper. And look how well that turned out.

He tried to get to his feet, but fell back with a sound of mingled pain and surprise as his right leg buckled under him. It was full of pins and needles, all of them crazily dancing. He must have sat on the damn thing. Shaking his leg jerkily to force it back to normality, he snatched the cigarette pack and placed one between his lips.

"It'll probably taste like crap," he said aloud to the empty house (Kreacher had long since disappeared), and set fire to the tip of the cigarette with his wand. It didn't taste like crap, though. It had, in fact, no taste at all...as if the years had stolen it away. He winced slightly. _It's not the only thing the years have stolen, is it Sirius?_

Ignoring the inner voice, he wandered back toward the drawing room, puffing away and feeling pleasantly lightheaded. By the time he reached the room, the paper had burnt to the end.

Sirius put out his cigarette and considered going back to sleep but a voice inside his head, which unsurprisingly resembled Remus, decided that was a bad idea. It would be better, healthier both mentally and physically, to eat some lunch, plan for tonight's meeting for half an hour or so, and then go for a nice long bath. He knew he was sleeping too much, and sleeping too much was a sign of depression. He had made it halfway to the kitchen before he deviated to the drawing room, and dropped onto the couch without ceremony.

_Bugger it,_he thought, putting a pillow behind his head and another under his neck. _I am depressed._

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Oh, Sirius getting hit over the head with a Daily Prophet...gotta love the irony. :)

I know nothing really happens in this chapter but I really wanted to take time out of the story and explore Sirius' mental stability during the OotP. Hopefully, people are happy with my take on his character. I have been known to rant on about something or other at the end of these chapters and this one is no different :)...I've been reading so many fanfics, particularly reading the books fics, that compare Sirius and Ron and how alike they are. Am I the only one who thinks that this couldn't be more inaccurate? I am curious to everyone's take on this because I thought it screamed to me how similar Harry and Sirius are. That's what made their relationship so beautifully written was because Harry was realising that Sirius wasn't just his dad's best friend but someone who understood him and that was taken away from him... :( Also, if I read one more person saying that Sirius lives for food I am going to scream...the poor man has been starving since he was twenty-one. If people get that he is like Ron in that respect, I think you are forgetting that he was living on RATS! ...Rant over :P

As always, please review. It really means alot to me :)


	6. Chapter 6

**N/A:** Hmmm, it's been a while, eh? But as you can see I have returned...tah dah! I have never experienced writer's block as badly as I have these last several months...it's like a bleedin' long, dark tunnel that won't end but despite the terrible writing, I carried on and updated. This really, really isn't my best work and I only pray to the high Heavens that it gets better before this story becomes more dramatic or I don't think I'll be telling my version of events very well. :( Hopefully, you get the gist :D

**Warning: **For some reason you seem to have to warn people about angst, which I don't really understand since it's under the genre of angst...? But I like to keep people happy so this is very angsty and sad and depressing and whatnot so... *shrugs* I really won't appreciate if I get reviews saying it was too angsty or depressing...thats kind of the whole point, if you get me. Although, I was going for the silver lining kind of thing. I don't really know why people like Harry Potter if they don't like angst...cause it's kind of one every page...really. :)

One thing though - this won't be completely book-canon. PLEASE READ THIS. If I had stuck with the idea of reading the books, I wouldn't have changed a thing but because I'm using the pensieve and memories...some things would lose impact if I kept them strictly canon, other things (not many) I just preferred how the film done it. I'll do this now just so you have it in mind. Prisoner of Azkaban...where Sirius talks to Harry at the end of the movie, I'm using that. How Hedwig dies because I felt like the movie made her death more worthy and it is so like Hedwig to protect Harry. Alot of scenes where we see Harry under his cloak such as him talking to his parents, Sirius and Remus at the end of DH, he won't be under the cloak because then that very emotional scene would lose impact. I'll warn before I change anything but I hope it doesn't upset people too much.

**Disclaimer: **I am not J.K Rowling...if I was I wouldn't have to worry that I can't afford any heating! Her characters are hers and hers alone but anything you don't see in canon that is created in this story is mine.

Enjoy x x

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 6:<strong>

Harry stumbled as his feet touched Hogsmeade High Street. Leaning heavily on his walking-stick, he straightened and looked around; Greyback's wand held firmly in his grasp. Night had fallen since Neville had left Harry's bedside and the air was eerily still; the wind had subsided and the stars twinkled brightly above him. The shop fronts on either side of the street were dark, except for the Three Broomsticks where light spilled out onto the road and shouts of laughter could be heard. The line of misty mountains that graced the skyline behind the village was shadowed and towering and they made Harry feel insignificant in their majesty.

Pulling his cloak around him, Harry followed the curve in the road, stumbling now and again and struggling to keep his balance. It was a slow ascent to the castle but before long he finally saw the tall pillars on either side of the gate, each topped with a winged boar. Harry reached out towards the gate but stopped before his hand reached its destination. He could feel the tingle of magic in the air and realised that, in his haste to come here, he had forgotten about the wards that protected the school from intruders. He wondered if he would even be allowed entrance. With a feeling of reckless abandonment, as if it would assuage his own grief, Harry thrust his hand out again and grasped the cool metal. The gate shivered violently before it settled with a groan. Harry had barely begun to consider finding another means of entrance before a series of clicking noises cut across his thoughts and the gates swung open.

Hogwarts was welcoming him home.

Harry moved quietly up the dark path that led to the castle but instead of walking towards it, he turned and followed the trail around the lake, studying the outline of the castle that was once his home and his sanctuary but now only a hollow reminder of what he once had...what was now lost to him.

And on he walked until he stood next to the white marble tomb reflected in the dark water of the lake, covered in a excess of brightly coloured flowers that had no right blooming in the harsh climate of the Scottish highlands: The final resting place of the greatest Headmaster of Hogwarts, the greatest wizard of the age and, to Harry, the greatest man he had ever known.

And as he stood staring down at the smooth marble that seemed to twinkle beneath the glow of the stars, a rage like he hadn't felt in years built up inside him until it was all he could do not to scream his fury into the night. Harry knew his anger was unreasonable but he revelled in it. Now hours after the attack on the Ministry, he finally felt and he wasn't sure if it was better than the numbness he had been experiencing. Hadn't Dumbledore once told him that the suffering he felt was what made him human, his greatest strength? And just as he had then; he wanted to rage at him for his wisdom, for his calmness, even for his absence. But he couldn't. Dumbledore was as dead now as he had been when Harry knelt beside his broken body at sixteen.

"Is this the life you planned for me, Dumbledore?" Harry seethed. "Is this the power I own? _Is this what I am the Master of? IS THIS WHAT I CAME BACK FOR?"_

Nothing answered him but the eternal twinkling of the stars. He felt completely alone. And then, as quick as it came, his anger had vanished leaving him with nothing but an ache in his heart.

"Please..." Harry whispered, his voice breaking beneath his grief. "I don't know what to do. Help me!"

Now, more than ever, Harry realised how deeply he missed Dumbledore. He had spent so many months - too many months – questioning Dumbledore, doubting him even when he had no reason to and now, at the end of it all, he would give anything he had to hear his counsel once more. Sitting in his office, with his fingers pressed together as if in prayer, his long silver beard gleaming in the firelight and his twinkling blue eyes peering over his half-moon spectacles, he would have given Harry a hint of what to do, or how to act with a only few simple words. Or offered comfort with a smile and a nod of his head. Even after his death, Dumbledore was a constant presence, guiding his hand in his task. He had even provided Harry with answers during the brief time he had spent in the next life. But Harry was firmly in the land of the living now and unlike the second war; Dumbledore had left no grand plan behind before he died. No hints or whispers in the dark telling him that he was on the right path. Harry no longer followed Dumbledore. He had replaced him. In the eyes of the public anyway, and he was a poor substitute. Once again, Harry was left to pick up the pieces of Voldemort's terror...and he had never felt so utterly powerless.

Harry found he could no longer stand. Knees buckling under him, he collapsed next to Dumbledore's tomb, his back resting against the cold stone, his breath coming out in pants. And as he looked back towards the outline of the castle, Harry did something he hadn't done in years. He cried.

He cried until his head ached and his breath seemed locked within his chest and still it came in great, crashing waves like some terrible poison oozing from an open wound. Even after the pain in his chest had lessened somewhat, the tears continued running down his cheeks. He couldn't stop them. After years of holding back his grief and loneliness, he wasn't sure he even wanted to. He was beyond caring how he looked or that in a few hours the sun would rise and with it, the inhabitants of Hogwarts, who would be more than surprised to find the Chosen One's broken form slumped across their old Headmaster's tomb.

He did nothing.

Harry heard the sound of shuffling feet approach him, leaves crunching beneath the weight of a man and for a moment, Harry's heart stopped but he didn't get up. He didn't raise his wand. He just sat there, and waited for whoever it was to show themselves. The figure moved out of the shadows and into the brilliant light of the moon and through his blurred and hazy vision, Harry saw a pair of brilliant blue eyes and white hair. His heart leapt...Dumbledore. Shaking his head, Harry could have laughed for his idiotic moment of relief for he knew better than anyone that no magic could bring back the dead. Not completely, anyway.

_Wrong Dumbledore_, Harry thought with a grimace as he rested his head against the cold, smooth marble.

"What are you doing, Potter?" Aberforth asked quietly.

Harry laughed but it sounded more like a sob to his ears. "Pitying the living."

Aberforth grunted. "Pitying yourself more like."

Harry could see Aberforth pull out his wand from the corner of his eye and distantly wondered if the man was going to curse him in annoyance. He almost found the prospect amusing-

"What the hell was that for?" Harry shouted, as a wave of cold water drown him from head to toe. He would have jumped to his feet if his leg hadn't complained so much with the slightest of movements.

"I've dealt with drunks a long time, Potter." Aberforth smile grimly and stowed his wand in his robes. "You may not be drinking but I've found that a shock to the system generally knocks some sense in those idiots that drown their sorrows."

"Bit of warning would have been nice." Harry mumbled under his breath as he dried himself with a flick of Greyback's wand.

Aberforth sighed exasperatedly. "Would have defeated the purpose then, wouldn't it boy?"

Harry only grunted in reply.

"You know if you miss my brother's words of wisdom so much, you might find more success with his portrait." Aberforth said, waving a hand in the direction of Dumbledore's tomb. "Dead men don't talk so much."

Harry wiped his tears on the back of his sleeve and turned his head to stare out across the lake. "It's not really him though, is it?"

"I don't know 'bout that." Aberforth replied. "He's still pretty damn annoying."

Harry laughed bitterly and turned back towards the other man. "Still pretending you can't stand your brother, Aberforth?"

"Who said anything like that, eh?" Aberforth said, a derisive sound coming from the back of his throat. "You seem a little lost to me. I was only adding my two-knuts into the mix."

"I didn't know you cared." Harry said sarcastically.

"Who says I do?"

"Why are you here then?" Harry demanded, not caring if he was sounding rude. He was long past caring.

Aberforth was silent for a moment as he and Harry stared at each other. He half expected him to shrug and turn around but after a moment, he took a breath and began speaking. "I saw you apparate into Hogsmeade lookin' like hell. Last I heard from Longbottom you were at death's door." Aberforth cleared his throat loudly but his face remained impassive. "I heard they killed Kingsley. I'm sorry to hear it, he was a good man."

"Yes, he was." Harry replied softly, trying to ignore the pain in his chest at the reminder of his friend's murder.

"They're calling out for you to take his place as Minister now...escaping the Death Eaters single-handed-" Aberforth continued after a moment of silence, "-you're a bloody hero again."

"I thought as much." Harry said with a sigh. He shuffled on the ground where he sat and winced slightly when a stab of pain shot through his leg. "They're mad if they think I'd be a good Minister."

"Well, there's no accounting for poor taste." Harry smiled slightly even if it was a little forced. "But it does make me wonder why you're hiding yourself with a dead man instead of running head first into danger like you usually do."

Harry smiled dropped and his head snapped around to stare at the younger Dumbledore. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Aberforth tilted his head slightly and studied Harry in silence. "Four years ago I told you to save yourself but you wouldn't hear of it." Aberforth replied. "If you ask me it looks like you're the one giving up this time. Some saviour of the wizarding world, you are."

"How dare you?" Harry seethed, his voice barely a whisper. "I never asked for this." And before he knew what had happened, he was shouting. "I'm not your bloody Saviour!" Harry roared, his anger coming back in full-force. "I'm sick and tired of everyone relying on me to fight their battles for them. Find someone else to end this war! I have enough blood on my hands! I'm done fighting! You know what?" Harry spat. "You're right. I give up, alright! I've had enough!"

Harry screamed until his voice broke under the strain and all was left was silence. "Feel better?"

Harry snorted and glared at Aberforth before he turned away again. "Not really."

"Didn't think so. Don't get me wrong, Potter." Aberforth said roughly. "You running away from this is the first sensible thing you've done your whole life."

Harry growled beneath clenched teeth and used whatever self-control he had not to attack the man. He knew Aberforth was speaking the truth but Harry didn't want to accept how much of a coward he sounded. "Go away, Aberforth."

"No."

"What would you have me do?" Harry asked quietly, his voice dripping with disdain. "Look at me! I can barely walk. How the hell am I meant to defeat a wizard ten times more powerful than me? You have any bright ideas, Aberforth I'm all ears. Otherwise, leave me the hell alone."

Silence fell between them once more.

"Is there no way of healing it?" Aberforth replied after a moment, with a nod in the direction of Harry's injured leg.

"No," Harry began flatly. "It's too late for that."

"What the hell does that mean?"

"What do you think it means, Aberforth?" Harry lifted his head to look into those blue eyes that he knew so well and forced himself to voice the very thing he had been avoiding since he heard Akins cruel curse in the Department of Mysteries. "I'm dying."

A tense silence stretched between them where neither one of them moved, or breathed it seemed. Even the many creatures in the Forbidden forest where calm and the trees where flat and lifeless to Harry's eyes. Harry was the first to break the still.

"Ironic, isn't it?" He began, not really expecting an answer. "I've spent half my life trying so hard to be the man your brother was and now I'm dying the same way he did." Harry laughed sadly before he grew serious once more. "The curse will spread in time. I have a few months left, I think. It's not the fact that I'm dying, really. I'm not afraid of death anymore. In some ways I wish for it. But this..." Harry took a deep breath and tried to steady the quaver in his voice. "Four years ago, to the day...I walked into the forest ready to die and it was the hardest thing I have ever had to do. But I knew it had to happen. I knew that it meant_ something_ and that my death would help put an end to that war. And now, I'm useless and all I can do is wait and watch myself waste away...for nothing."

Harry heard Aberforth sigh heavily before he walked towards him, quicker than a man of his age should have allowed and grasped the front of his robes. "Get up, boy." Aberforth said gruffly, pulling Harry to his feet. He stumbled onto his walking-stick and nearly fell again but Aberforth steadied him with a hand on his shoulder.

"You listen to me, Potter! You're no coward." Aberforth snapped. "I won't pretend that this won't be painful for you but you're in no worse a position that the rest of us. Every man must die whether they're as young as you or as old as me. We all die. It's not 'bout the amount of years we're given but what we do with the time we have left. That's what makes a good life."

When Harry still looked unconvinced, Aberforth cursed impatiently and grabbed the front of his robes again. "Tell me, boy, since you're so clever...who do you think had the better life, eh? A man who lived to twenty, who made a difference in people's lives, who had people who loved him and fought for his right to live 'til the very end or an old man who died alone after shutting himself away in fear of getting hurt again? Well?" He finished, with a shake of the fist that was wrapped around Harry's clothing.

Harry spluttered for a moment, his mind too foggy to come up with a reasonable response but Aberforth didn't seem to care. He carried on ruthlessly. "Now, you can sit here for what's left of your life and die regretting that you didn't do anything for the people you left behind. Or you take that courage of yours and you keep fighting! And if my brother were here, he'd tell you the same. Granted, he may put it a bit more eloquently than me."

"How do you know that?" Harry whispered. Aberforth grunted and narrowed his eyes in Harry's direction.

"Still think you know my brother better than me, Potter?"

Harry swallowed and shook his head. "No, I didn't mean-"

"After Arianna died, my brother closed himself off and he never let anyone get close to him again." Aberforth continued flatly. "He was a hard man to read at the best of times but despite all his secrets, he couldn't fool _me_. I knew him too well. And I know in the end, before he died, that was a regret of his: That he never had the courage to really live or admit how he really felt."

"I don't understand."

"_You_, ye idiot!" Aberforth said exasperatedly, giving Harry another shake. "In all the time I've known Albus, I've never seen him care 'bout anything or anyone the way he cared about you...not since Arianna. Oh, he tried to hide it from me and from himself but like I said, I knew him too well. And I know he wouldn't want to see you end this way."

Harry shook his head in confusion. "You said that your brother never cared about me...that I was just another weapon in his grand schemes?"

"Yeah, well." Aberforth said gruffly, finally releasing Harry from his grip and stepping back. "It's easier to ignore the good in people than admit you were wrong."

Aberforth turned and stared down at his brother's tomb but his face was unreadable in the surrounding darkness. "Don't make the same mistakes he did, Potter." He said softly, his voice barely a whisper. "Don't make the same mistakes I did."

Aberforth lifted his head then and stared at Harry. Finally, he spoke. "I'll leave you to your thoughts then, boy."

And as Harry watched his retreating form, something stirred deep within him, something that he had thought he lost long ago; the very thing that was forcing away the darkness that had threatened to suffocate him only moments ago. Hope.

**HPHPHPHP**

It didn't take Harry long to make his preparations, no matter how much he dallied, hoping to put off the inevitable even if only for a few minutes more. But any longer and he would be putting Andromeda and Teddy's life and danger and that he was not willing to do. Before long, Harry found himself staring at the familiar front door of the Tonks residence. Taking a deep breath, he knocked softly and waited.

"Who is it?" a woman's voice came from behind the solid oak door. Instinctively, Harry raised his hand to his cheek to check that his glamour was still in place and felt nothing but smooth skin beneath his fingertips.

"It's Harry." He responded and wasn't surprised to find that his voice was flat, almost detached. He wondered if he was really as calm as he appeared after the events of the day or if he was still suffering some kind of shock. The door swung open to reveal the anxious face of Andromeda Tonks, her eyes widening as she saw Harry leaning heavily on his walking-stick. She quickly ushered Harry in and, locking the door behind him, she turned to him with worried eyes.

"What has happened?" She asked quickly. "The Ministry-"

"The Ministry's gone, 'Dromeda." Harry spoke across her gently. "It belongs to them now." Harry paused, trying to find words to break the news of Kingsley's death to her that didn't sound hollow but he found none and instead, settled on the truth. "Kingsley didn't make it."

Andromeda opened her mouth as if to speak but closed it quickly and shook her head. "Kingsley..."

Harry shifted on the spot, putting more of his weight on his walking-stick as her voice faded into silence. "What happened to you?" She asked, her eyes dropping to the stick in his hand.

"I'm fine." Harry lied. "It's nothing that won't heal. Listen, Dromeda-" A crash sounded from beyond the hallway and Harry barely had time to turn in the direction of the noise before Teddy had lunged towards him and thrown himself into his arms. He almost stumbled and if it hadn't been for his quick reflexes, both of them would have crashed into the wall behind him. Harry shifted Teddy onto his hip and closed his eyes, breathing in the scent of the boy he had been so close to never seeing again.

"Hi Harry!" Teddy said happily, pulling back far enough so that Harry could see his face. Harry forced himself to smile in return.

"Hey, little man." He replied, bouncing him in his arms slightly. "You're getting a little big to be picked up, don't you think?"

"Nope!" Teddy twisted in his grasp until he could peer down and study the walking-stick that Harry had balanced their duel weight on. "Why are you walking with a stick?"

"Oh, I was clumsy and hurt my leg." Harry said cheerfully. "The stick stops me from falling over again."

Teddy face grew serious at his godfather's words and he nodded sombrely. "That happens to me too."

Pressing a kiss to his forehead, Harry bent and placed Teddy gently on his feet. Harry smiled a little easier as he looked into his godson's large amber eyes and ruffled his hair affectionately. "Why don't you go get into bed and I'll come read you a story in a bit. I have to talk to your Gran for a few minutes."

"'kay!" said Teddy excitedly, turning and bouncing away happily. Harry waited until Teddy had disappeared into the hallway, nearly tripping over his own feet on the way before he turned back to Andromeda, his face grave.

"I need you to take Teddy and leave as soon as you can." Harry said quietly between numbed lips. "I got in contact with the Delacours - Fleur's parents – Bill sent Fleur and Victoire there once the Death Eaters started reforming and they said you and Teddy would be welcome to stay with them-"

"I don't see why we must leave?" Andromeda argued after a moment of shock. "This is our home and our blood cannot be called into question."

Harry shook his head. "This is nothing to do with blood-status anymore, not this time. Fenrir Greyback has escaped Azkaban."

"Greyback?" Andromeda whispered, horrified. "The werewolf that bit-"

"-Remus, yes." Harry finished flatly. "He was hurt quite badly in the attack. I don't know if he's alive but if he doesn't come after Teddy because he is Remus' son then Akins will because he's my godson."

Andromeda stared at him in disbelief before she turned and sank into the armchair next to the fire, putting her face into her hands. "But surely there are other ways of keeping him safe. The Fidileus charm-"

"-would see that you and him are locked away for who-knows how long. His parents died so that he could live in a better world." Harry said, remembering what Remus had said to him when he had walked to his own death. "They won't want him growing up surrounded by another war and neither do I."

"Of course." Andromeda replied shakily. "I understand b-but...this is the home I shared with Ted and Dora. I will be taking him away from everything he knows." She finally lifted her head and stared around the living room, taking in the many pictures of her family that had covered the walls, her eyes watering with unshed tears. Harry sighed heavily. Even though it broke his heart that he had to send his godson away, he knew it was the right thing to do. Pulling out the piece of parchment that he had quickly scribbled the Delacour's address on, he placed it on the table next to Andromeda's chair and grasped her shoulder.

"I know but it won't be forever." Harry said but he didn't know if he was trying to convince Andromeda or himself. "He'll be safe there, away from all of this. He can have a normal life."

Andromeda opened her mouth, closed it again, swallowed loudly and then said, "Yes-Yes. Of course. We will leave as soon as possible."

"Thank you, 'Dromeda." Harry breathed, even though a small part of him had wished she would have convinced him not to send Teddy away. He knew he should be grateful that she didn't put up a fight. It would have only made it too painful. He had decided during his brief conversation with Aberforth only hours before that he must trust his instincts and follow through on his decision, no matter how devastating the outcome would be for him. Harry reached into his pocket again and pulled out another scroll, one he had written his final message to Teddy on. "If anything happens to me, I want you to give him this when he's a little older - old enough to understand why I couldn't come with you both."

Andromeda lifted her head and her warm, brown eyes stared at him without pause. For a moment, Harry thought Andromeda would refuse to take it but after a shaky moment she stood and, ignoring his outstretched hand, pulled him into a firm hug. "You are a good man, Harry Potter. I couldn't imagine a better godfather for Teddy."

Harry felt hot tears prickle behind his eyes as he returned the hug just as enthusiastically. He had come to care for Andromeda very much over their years raising Teddy together, she had become somewhat of a second mother to him, and he would be heartbroken to see her leave.

"Thank you...for everything." Harry said as the pulled apart. Andromeda gave him a watery smile and patted him on the cheek.

"Be safe, Harry."

**HPHPHPHP**

Harry took a deep breath, steeling himself for what was to come and forced a faint smile on his lips. Pushing open the door to Teddy's room, he expected to see his godson waiting excitedly for Harry's arrival and his nightly bedtime story. Instead, his small form was hunched over where he sat on his bed, his small hands clinging to the wolf-teddy that he had affectionately named 'Moony' and his face was streaked with tears.

"Teddy?" Harry asked his voice laced with concern as he moved towards the bed. "What's wrong?"

"M'sorry." He mumbled into his teddy and he gave a great sniff. "I didn't mean to listen. I just wanted to see why you were taking so long."

Harry's heart dropped into his stomach when he realised that Teddy had overheard his and Andromeda's conversation. He sighed and settled himself on the edge of Teddy's bed. "I didn't really want you hear that."

"M'sorry." He whispered again.

"I'm not angry at you, Teddy." Harry said quickly, running his hand through his godson's hair which had taken on a dull, brown appearance...a clear sign that he was upset. "I just didn't want you to have to deal with-"

"I don't want to go to France!" Teddy said hurriedly, his large eyes pleading with Harry in a way that almost crumbled his resolve. "I want to stay here with you. Please, I'll be good. I promise. I won't break things so much a-and...and you don't have to read me stories anymore. I promise! Please! Don't make me go away."

"Teddy." Harry said, feeling his voice catch in his throat. "You're not being punished. I know it's hard for you to understand-"

"I do understand!" Teddy interrupted loudly. "It's the bad men. The ones that made mummy and daddy go away. And now you're going away too and you said you wouldn't. You promised!"

"I know I did, Teddy and I meant it." Harry said firmly, cupping his godson's face in his hands. "I will _always_ be with you, no matter what. You will see me again, Teddy-bear. One day. I promise you."

Teddy slumped forward against his godfather and sniffed loudly. "I can fight." He whispered into Harry's side. "I can be brave like you and mummy and daddy."

Harry smiled sadly, and pulled his little boy closer to him. "I know you can fight. I know you can. But I need you to do something so much more important Teddy and you're going to need to be brave to do it, okay?"

Teddy pulled himself from his hiding position and looked up into his godfather's face, wiping his nose on his pyjama sleeve and nodded. "The only thing that I can give you in the whole world is a happy life. And I need you to be strong and be happy. For me, Teddy. Can you do that?"

Teddy nodded his head and whispered "I guess so."

"That's good." Harry whispered in return, raising his eyes to the framed photo of Remus and a heavily pregnant Tonks, arm in arm on a sofa, which sat on Teddy's beside table. "And now, I'll tell you what my godfather told me a long time ago." Harry said softly, resting his chin on the soft, brown curls that covered his godson's head. "That no matter how little time we spend with them, the people we love never really leave us."

Teddy lifted his head and looked at Harry in confusion and for the first time that night, the smile that came to his lips was not forced.

"I was confused by that thought when I was younger too but one day you'll understand. I did. Even though I've forgotten it from time to time."

The expression on his godson's face told Harry that he thought that there would never come a day when he would understood that but his thoughts were caught short when Teddy yawned widely. Harry smiled and pulled Teddy's blanket closer around him, he pressed a kiss to his forehead. "Go to sleep, little man. Things won't seem so bad in the morning."

Again, Harry didn't know who he was trying to convince.

* * *

><p><strong>NA:** OH MY LORD, that was draining...but it had to happen. Now before you try to kill me for killing off Harry, stick with me and you'll see in time it's not so bad. So, please refrain from burning down my house in the middle of the night...I've just redecorated my living room.

"Hogwarts will always be there to welcome you home"...you know I cried when Sirius died, I cried when Dumbledore died and Dobby and Remus and Snape but I never cried when I got to the end of the book or after it was over until I heard JK Rowling say those words...and then I cried like a baby. I don't know why but it really, really touched me. I think it's an innocence thing...that no matter how old you get, or that your childhood is over you can always so back to that child-like imagination even when you're an adult. It's a really nice thought. I had to put that in for Harry coming back to Hogwarts.

Thank you for all the reviews on my Sirius/Ron debate. It is nice to know I'm not alone in my thinking. All in all, despite similarities, their differences are too great to see them as alike...in my opinion anyway. Don't get me wrong, I do like Ron but I just don't see it, personally. As for the comment on Ron being blunt, Sirius being blunt...I don't know. I've always seen Harry as being the brutally honest one at times, like Sirius while Ron is just tactless...lol, bless him. One thing I cannot abide though, and I've seen it so many times on fanfiction is where people try and keep Sirius in character yet make him an idiot i.e a Ron or Fred/George double. Sirius is an incredibly intelligent man and he is one of my favourite, dynamic characters in the series and I hate seeing so many of his good qualities forgotten. Also, people seem to only base his character on Ootp and forget how smart, caring and understanding he was in GoF...without even trying to understand how that change occurred. Or others make him this great, father figure for Harry while completely ignoring some of the comments that he made to Harry during Ootp...like, "you're less like your father than I thought you were"? I've seen it done so many times, with Sirius and Dumbledore and Remus and Severus etc etc...that a character can't have flaws without the fanfiction turning into bashing. I love JK for that...every character in those books has their flaws, and that doesn't make them evil, it makes them human and you still love them at the end of the day. I hope you keep that in mind if I suddenly criticise your favourite characters, I'm just pointing out every part character as best I can with what canon has provided. That wasn't really a debate topic there...so unlike me but just thought I should get that out, and forewarn you all. THIS IS NOT A BASHING FIC...teehee, gotta love capital letters.

Cookies for all if you can figure out the feeling of déjà-vu in my plot...


	7. Chapter 7

**N/A:** Don't have much to say this time so on to Chapter 7 Enjoy. X x

**Disclaimer:** I am not J.K. Rowling and I ain't getting paid to write this...so on and so forth.

**Warnings:** Angst galore, as usual.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 7:<strong>

"What happened?" Sirius asked as soon as he landed in the well-kept back garden of the small cottage. He had flown to Godric's Hollow as soon as he had received James' summons, his insides gripped with panic. James shook his head in response and jerked towards the bike. Sirius frowned for a moment in confusion before he realised that the engine was still rumbling between his legs, drowning out his voice, making his attempt at conversation futile. With barely leashed impatience, Sirius turned the engine off and asked more insistently. "James, what happened?"

From his slumped position on the back step, his arms resting on his knees, his wand hanging limply in his fingertips, Sirius knew that his friend had been pushed to breaking point. In the many years he had known him, James was always optimistic; no matter what happened in his life, he took everything in his stride – confident that he could solve anything with his head held high. He had never seen his friend look so defeated and it made Sirius feel like a block of ice had lodged itself in his chest. James lifted his wand feebly and Sirius felt the shift in the air surrounding them, the wind and twittering of birds disappearing into silence.

"Dumbledore came here last night." James responded finally, his voice barely a whisper. "He's received word that Voldemort has targeted the boy in the prophecy, or who he thinks it is." Sirius felt his breath catch in his throat when James lifted his head and he stared into the hazel eyes he knew so well, bright with unshed tears. "Sirius..." he croaked. "He thinks its Harry. Voldemort – he's coming after my son."

Sirius opened his mouth to respond but found that he could no longer speak. He was sure even his heart had stopped. He slumped forward on his bike, his elbows resting on the wide handle-bars and put his head in his hands. This is what they had dreaded for over a year, what they had done everything in their power to avoid and now that it had come about, Sirius realised he had never really been prepared for it.

"What am I going to do, Padfoot?" James asked in a small voice but Sirius couldn't respond. Suddenly, a wave of hate that he had never felt before came over him and now, more than ever, he wanted to kill Voldemort – rip him limb from limb for even threatening to come after his family. "Dumbledore told us the rest of the prophecy. It's..."

Sirius lifted his head slightly to look at James. After Harry and Neville had been born, Dumbledore had come to both families to warn them of the danger they were in. He only relayed as much as Voldemort knew of the prophecy so not to risk either family any further. Sirius swallowed loudly, opened his mouth, and closed it again before he finally found his voice. From the look in his friend's eyes, he wasn't sure he wanted to know the contents but he couldn't help himself from asking, "Is it bad?"

James nodded simply and Sirius dropped his head into his hands again, pushing his palms against his eyes as if he could rid himself of the sight of his broken friend. "I won't tell you the full contents. It would only put you at more risk but yes, it's bad..."

Sirius heard James take a deep breath as if steeling himself before he continued. "Lily barely slept a wink last night. She just held Harry for hours...I think she's afraid that if she closes her eyes, he'll disappear." He laughed sadly and Sirius could feel tears prickling beneath his palms at thought of that happening. "You know what this means?" James asked after a moment.

Sirius raised his head again and studied his best friend; he looked so defeated that Sirius wanted nothing more than to go to him and comfort him somehow but he found that all he could do was sit there, frozen and listen. "A year of moving around, hiding away, doing nothing for the Order-"

"Doing something for your family." Sirius interjected firmly, straightening himself on his bike. He knew James felt useless having to go into hiding after Harry was born despite how often he tried to hide it from his friends and Lily. James nodded despairingly and ran a shaky hand through his dark hair.

"I know, but it's not enough now. Dumbledore thinks the only way to keep us safe is the-"

"Fidelius Charm." Sirius finished, nodding his head. "We knew it might come to this."

"Yeah," James peered over his shoulder at the house as if he could see Harry and Lily through the closed door. "Dumbledore volunteered himself as Secret-Keeper," he continued tiredly, turning around to face Sirius once more, "but I told him you were willing to do it. Took a bit convincing but he relented eventually. He still believes there's a spy close to us. The thought makes me sick to my stomach but considering how much Voldemort seems to know about us, I think he's right. I just don't know who it could be!" James finished angrily, clenching his wand between his hands so tightly his knuckles turned white.

"It could be anyone." Sirius whispered in response, hating himself that his mind had immediately turned to Remus. James looked up at him again and Sirius was sure he saw something like guilt flash through his eyes. Sirius raised his eyebrows in question and James shuffled on the spot in obvious discomfort.

"Remus was here this morning." James began carefully, as if he were afraid Sirius could explode in a fit of rage at any moment. "He tried to convince me not to use you as Secret-Keeper."

"Did he, now?" Sirius said calmly. He found that that was no real surprise to him. He had even expected it.

"That's it?" James asked, clearly shocked. "I thought you'd be furious?"

"I'm not saying it's a happy scenario." Sirius spoke over him. "But we're at war, people are dying and you're wife and child is at risk. People change, James...and Remus has become so distant this last year. Are you telling me you don't think it's a possibility that he's-"

"Not you too!" James shouted, jumping to his feet so quickly Sirius leaned back in surprise. "You and Remus are friends. What has happened to us? Marauders for life remember? Or does not mean anything to you anymore?"

"Of course it does!" Sirius responded with force. "But that does not mean I'm going to turn a blind eye to the facts. There is a spy in the Order and Remus has changed so much I hardly recognise the boy I used to go to school with!"

"So what!" James said, lifting his hands in air. "Like you said, people change. You have! That doesn't mean that you're suddenly going to dabble in the Dark Arts!"

"But I've been here, James!" Sirius said, slamming his fist down on his bike in frustration. "Whenever I could, I've been here with you and Lily and Harry. Where's Remus? He's never here! It's like he doesn't care anymore."

James glared at him in silence before he began to pace up and down the garden. "He's just under a lot of stress lately since he's gone under-ground with the Werewolves! I've tried talking to him but..." James' shoulders slumped and the anger drained out of him. "I think he believes he's a danger to us, to Harry because of his 'furry little problem'. That's why he's been distant, Sirius. This is the first time he's really had to deal with what his life could have been like if he hadn't gone to Hogwarts. The more he's around others like him, the more he feels like he shouldn't be around us." He stopped pacing suddenly and spun to face Sirius, his face hard. "I trust him and I trust you and I trust Peter. I don't know who the spy is but I know that none of you would hand my boy over to Voldemort, alright?"

Sirius wanted to say more but the look in James' eyes told him there would be no room for discussion so instead he shrugged tersely and said: "Fine."

James didn't look convinced. He scowled at Sirius and dropped himself onto the concrete step again. "I told Remus the same. You'll be our Secret-Keeper. That was decided a long time ago...if it ever came to this."

"Listen, I've been thinking about it." Sirius sighed heavily. "Voldemort will know I'm your Secret-Keeper. This spy-whoever it is-" Sirius added impatiently when James narrowed his eyes, "will pass that information on. He'll come straight for me."

"I don't understand. Have you changed your mind?" James asked his brow furrowed in confusion.

"No, you know I would do anything to keep you and Lily and Harry safe. I would never willingly tell anyone how to get to you. You know that, right?"

"Of course I do, mate." James answered quickly.

Sirius smiled at his friend's trust in him, in everyone even though it had frustrated him only moments before. It was one of the qualities he admired most about him. "But that alone...It's not a risk I'm willing to take. What if he tortures me to the point where I lose my mind? What if I don't realise what I'm saying? I could give your location away without meaning to."

"Don't talk like that, Padfoot." James said harshly, his face pale. "That's not going to happen to you. After the charm is performed, you'll go into hiding, you'll be safe."

"I don't care what happens to me, James." Sirius said roughly. "I care about my brother and my sister and my little godson. I won't take any chances with your safety."

"What do you suggest then?" James asked his shoulders slumped in a defeat.

"Simple...a double-bluff." Sirius said simply, and felt a ghost of a grin across his lips. This felt so familiar that Sirius couldn't help but smile. It was like they were students again and the height of their difficulties was planning how to sneak out of the castle undetected. "We tell Dumbledore I'm your Secret-Keeper, the Order will know it and Voldemort will come after me for your whereabouts." He continued, trying to feel as confident as he sounded. "No matter what he does to me, I won't have the information to tell. But...Peter will."

"Peter?" James asked, clearly surprised. "You want to make him Secret-Keeper?"

"Think about it, James." Sirius began eagerly, leaning his weight on his handle-bars again and clasping his hands together. "Peter isn't exactly the most talented of Wizards. Voldemort would never even consider him. And, well, Peter's terrified of this war. He's scared of his own shadow these days. Can you really see him running off to join Voldemort?"

They both laughed at the ridiculousness of that thought but the laughter died down quickly and they sat in a contemplative silence.

"I don't know, Sirius. I don't like it."

"Nor do I, much." Sirius said honestly, trying to rid himself of that gnawing panic that had settled in the pit of his stomach. "But it's the best plan I've got."

"Maybe we should just make Dumbledore the Secret-Keeper. Dumbledore is the only one Voldemort feared. He'd never go after him." James paused and ran an agitated hand through his hair. "It's bad enough that he's after my family, I don't want you, Peter and Remus put at risk either."

"James, look...I'm no match for Voldemort." Sirius said firmly. "I can't stop him from coming after Harry but I can at least do this. Please, let me do this for you? Trust me?"

James smiled. "Alright, mate. Better go and relay the plan to Lily."

Sirius nodded and swung his leg over the bike to follow James into the house but before he could move one step, his heart stopped in his chest-

The air froze around him, the autumn sun had faded and darkness pressed in on him. Slipping out his wand, Sirius turned to James but he had vanished as if he had never been real...only a memory.

He was alone.

Sirius closed his eyes tightly as the ground swerved beneath his feet causing his stomach to flip uneasily but when he opened his eyes, he found himself standing inside his cell at Azkaban; his prison robes replacing his casual attire and his hair long and matted. Clutching at the bars, Sirius narrowed his eyes to see through the darkness. A hooded dementor pressed itself near his face and Sirius could feel the rattling breath against his skin. He jumped back and stumbled. And then he was falling into a never-ending pit, his stomach turning and he was sure he would be dead when he landed...

Sirius woke up on the floor with his head almost underneath the dusty coffee table, clutching at the carpet and crying out in high-pitched, piercing shrieks. For a moment, he was still locked inside his own mind, his senses foggy and disorientated. With a shaky breath, Sirius squeezed his eyes shut and tried to slow the racing of his heart. He was at Grimmauld Place, not trapped within his cell in Azkaban.

_I'm all right. It was just a dream and I'm all right._

But he wasn't, because it _hadn't _just been a dream. Azkaban had been real. As real as the floor beneath him: he had swapped one prison for another.

Turning his head slightly, Sirius looked through the crack in the curtains and saw that it had grown dark. He jerked violently and banged his head against the coffee table when the grandfather clock chimed loudly through the room signalling nine o'clock.

"Son of a-" Sirius reached up and rubbed the back of his head where he knew a bruise would be forming. He shifted himself and crawled out from under the table, wincing as his muscles cramped in protest. He would have gladly lain there for the rest of the night, happily suspended in his misery but he knew the others would be arriving soon and the stale smell of Firewhiskey would not go down well.

Even though he hated to admit it, Remus was right. This house was not as horrible as the prison had been because he knew one day he would get out. It was only a matter of time before the Ministry woke up and realised Dumbledore and Harry had been telling the truth. And, unlike the twelve years he had spent in Azkaban, people knew he was innocent and would defend that innocence with everything they could. That had been the worst thing to accept when he had been imprisoned. After the first month, the awful truth had hit him: No one was coming for him. He would spend the rest of his life in that cell. Only his innocence had kept him from becoming a babbling, drivelling mess. He clung to that fact until it had become an obsession and not even the dementors that had been stationed outside his cell night and day could take it away from him. Not that it had always been that simple. There were days when he would convince himself that he wasn't innocent, that he truly deserved to be there. After all, it was _his_ plan - all his idea. Guilt was guilt no matter what the crime had been. Strangely, it had even comforted him. Better to be a guilty man getting what he deserved than an innocent man who was suffering for no reason.

But then he had seen that picture of Wormtail in the _Prophet_ and it was like a light had been switched on his head.

Harry.

It shamed him to admit it but he had forgotten his godson after the first few months. Harry had been a constant source of joy and comfort to him and it had been sucked out of him the second he had been thrown into his cell. He had been the only good thing of that night. Harry had survived. But so had Sirius; not a murderer or a betrayer but a wronged man...and a godfather. It had been enough to drive him to escape. For two years, he had been a free man and Peter was out of Hogwarts. After that, he felt more like the man he was before Azkaban than he ever had. He was worried, naturally - Harry's scar hurting, the disappearances, the rumours. It had been just like the first war and Sirius knew it all centred on his godson. People still believed him a murderer, of course but he didn't really care about that. He had carried that accusation around for so long it had become second nature to him. The people who mattered knew of his innocence and he had been close by when Harry needed him.

That was until the third task.

He heard the screams of the crowd, yelling _"He's dead"_ and for one horrible moment, Sirius thought he had lost Harry. He had failed him. He had failed James and Lily again. Thankfully, Harry had survived where countless others hadn't when facing Voldemort. Then, he was confined to this haunted place and his mother and Kreacher had become his own personal dementors. That was when the nightmares had come back, like a drip slowly getting worse until it flooded him. Not even Padfoot could keep them at bay.

"Pull yourself together, Sirius!" He whispered, pushing himself into a sitting position. "You've been through worse than this."

And he had. He knew he should be thankful for a lot of things. For one, Harry was safe in Hogwarts. It would only be a matter of time before Voldemort moved into the open and he would be in far more danger. They were on the edge of another war. It was there, constantly in the background as a reminder of what was to come. He could feel it in the air, like a storm building before it hit. And here Sirius was, complaining about a house-elf and a portrait. It did sound rather pathetic when he thought about it. Sirius had turned into everything he hated; nothing but a bitter old man who couldn't let go of the past and see what was right in front of him.

_Dear Merlin, I've turned into Snape_.

That was enough to send a shiver down his back.

What was it he had said to Harry? Don't do anything reckless; don't worry; use the time to prepare yourself? It was about time Sirius took his own advice. If a fifteen year old boy could find the strength to keep fighting, then so could he. If he gave up now, he'd be letting his mother, Kreacher and Snape win and he wouldn't give them the satisfaction. He would get out of this house one day, he would make sure of it...even if it was the last thing he ever did.

Sirius forced himself to his feet and walked slowly through the house to the master bathroom. He turned the shower on hot enough to send up billows of steam, swallowed a mild pain-relieving potion, and climbed in. By the time he emerged, he felt better and thought he could survive this meeting after all. It would probably feel like it had lasted several years before it ended, listening to Snape go on about how much he was risking his life while Sirius' status as a mad-man was only making things more difficult for the Order, but he could get through it.

By the time he had dressed and left the bathroom, he heard the front door closing softly. Praying to the heavens that it was Remus and not Snape who had entered, Sirius took the stairs to the bottom floor as slowly as he could.

"Black." Snape greeted him with a look of distain. Sirius gritted his teeth and finished his decent into the hallway.

"You're early." Sirius responded simply, folding his arms across his chest. "If I knew you wished for my company so much I would have invited you round for tea."

"As charming as that sounds, Black," Snape began, a nasty smirk forming as he spoke. "I have more important things to be getting on with. I am, however, glad that you have so much...time on your hands. You are such an essential part to the Order, after all. Where would we be without someone to dust down the furniture?"

He swooped past Sirius before he could respond and descended into the kitchen, his robes billowing out behind him. Sirius followed him, his fingers itching to grab his wand but instead he settled on making a rude hand gesture at his retreating back. By the time he had entered the kitchen, Snape had seated himself, his right hand clenched around his wand even as it rested against the table. Sirius raised his own wand and was sure he saw Snape's hand flinch in response. Sirius smirked and pointed towards the fireplace. Flames erupted in the grate radiating a warm glow throughout the kitchen, casting shadows across Snape's pointed features. Sirius walked towards the seat opposite Snape and sat down slowly, placing his wand beside his open hand on the kitchen table, mimicking Snape's movements.

"I told you that if you done anything to Harry; you would have me to answer to." Sirius said in a dangerous voice. "You've stopped his lessons even though you know how important they are to his safety."

"You and your precious godson are so very alike, Black." Snape sneered. "Neither of you have any regard for private affairs-"

Sirius scoffed loudly. "You're one to talk, Snape. Always following us around, trying to figure out what we were up to. It was pathetic."

Before Snape could answer, the kitchen door swung open and Remus came into view. He looked between the two quickly with narrowed eyes but when he spoke, his tone was pleasant. "Good evening."

"Hello Remus." Sirius responded tensely. Snape said nothing. "We were just discussing Snape and Harry's lessons, if you care to join us?"

"I see." Remus responded carefully and took the seat next to Sirius, sending a wary look in his direction. "Well, I am sure we can come to some kind of understanding. You know, Severus how important it is for Harry to learn Occlumency. Surely, you can forgive what Harry has done and continue your lessons?"

"I think...not." Snape drawled. Sirius gnashed his teeth in anger and felt Remus place a warning hand on his arm.

"What has Harry ever done to deserve this hatred, Severus?" Remus asked sadly. "Our mistakes are not his. He has done nothing to deserve your contempt."

"Well," Snape replied, his dark eyes glinting malevolently. "It's more the fact he exists, if you know what I mean..."

Snape had barely uttered the words before Sirius snapped and, forgetting his wand, lunged himself across the dining table, intent on strangling the man with his bare hands. "You son of a bitch! How dare you-"

"Sirius!" Remus shouted, grabbing the back of his robes to pull him into his seat again. "Stop it! This isn't getting us anywhere!"

Sirius opened his mouth to speak but a bright flash of light erupted through the room, and the three occupants jumped to their feet. Sirius blinked repeatedly trying to return his sight to normal. When he could see clearly again, Dumbledore was standing in the kitchen, dressed in purple robes and clutching the arm of an elderly gentleman, whom Sirius had never seen before. The man looked to be in his late sixties. He was significantly smaller than Dumbledore, but his hair was just as white and his face just as lined with age. He was dressed in what appeared to be an old yet well-cared for black, muggle suit. He glanced around the kitchen once but when his brown eyes locked with Sirius', there was a strange glint in them that Sirius couldn't quite place.

"Forgive my lateness." Dumbledore greeted them with a smile. "I was held up on important business." He then turned towards his companion. "I would like to introduce you to Mr Albert-"

"_Doctor._" He interrupted gruffly.

"Forgive me." Dumbledore replied, bowing his head apologetically in the man's direction. "Doctor Albert McDougal."

"Are we inducting muggles into the Order now, Dumbledore?" Sirius asked bluntly.

"Don't worry yourself, lad." Albert responded, settling himself at the far-end of the kitchen table. "I'm just here to pass on a message."

"Forgive my friend's abruptness, Doctor." Remus began gently, casting a wary look at Sirius. "These are dark times in our world. We do not trust strangers easily."

"I know all about your...troubles." He responded with a wry grin. "That's why I thought it best to seek out Mr Dumbledore first, rather than showing up unannounced. I doubt much can get past him."

Dumbledore chuckled. "He can be trusted, I assure you." He answered, taking his place at the head of the table. "I have checked thoroughly."

"Excuse us." Snape said curtly and with a flick of his wand they were surrounded by a thick wall of silence. "Have you gone mad, Headmaster? Surely you do not believe that some muggle can be of any use to us-"

"I believe, Severus that we can use all the help we can get. I will not turn away valuable information because of the very prejudice we are fighting against. You would do well to remember that." Dumbledore said, not with hostility but with a hint of something else in his tone that Sirius could not quite place. Snape said nothing in response but Sirius was sure he saw a faint flush across his cheeks. He smirked with satisfaction. He may not always agree with Dumbledore's decisions but if there was one thing he enjoyed about the old wizard, it was his ability to put Severus Snape in his place.

Sirius, who had leaned against the wall with his arms crossed for the entirety of the conversation so far, took a step forward, wand in hand. "Muggle or not, was it necessary to bring him here? Surely I would have been safer to discuss this elsewhere?"

"Our Headquarters are not at jeopardy, Sirius." Dumbledore said calmly. "I alone can divulge the location."

"The Fidelius Charm isn't foolproof, Dumbledore, you know that."

"Very true." Dumbledore responded with a nod of his head. "I must confess I've no idea how he could have gained knowledge of my position when only I was aware of it. Quite an achievement, I must say." He finished with a twitch of his moustache. "Either way, I am confident that he is of no risk to us. I hardly doubt Lord Voldemort will think to question a retired doctor to unveil the most treasured secrets of the Order, don't you agree?"

"What information does he have, Albus?" inquired Remus.

Dumbledore pressed his fingertips together and studied their guest over his half-moon spectacles, who was currently staring at them with a bemused expression on his haggard face. "I have been unable to attain the details as of this time but perhaps speaking with the man will shed some due light on the subject." He pulled his wand from the sleeve of his robes and lifted it. "I believe this is quite unnecessary now, unless anyone else has anything to add?"

When everyone shook their heads, Dumbledore lifted the silencing charm and motioned for everyone to take their seats.

"Unusual methods, you have Mr Dumbledore." Albert said roughly. "I thought I'd finally lost my hearing there."

"Forgive us, Doctor." Dumbledore responded graciously. "I believe introductions are in order. This is my colleague Professor Severus Snape." He said with a wave of his hand. Albert nodded his head slightly in Snape's direction. "And this is Remus Lupin and Sirius Black. They are current members of the Order. I am sure their names are familiar to you. It was at Doctor McDougal's request that you be present tonight." Dumbledore explained to the others.

"Enough formalities, Dumbledore." Sirius said impatiently. "Has this got something to do with Harry? Is he in trouble?"

"Harry is safe at Hogwarts." Dumbledore assured him before turning to Snape. "That is correct, Severus?"

Snape nodded. "The last I saw of Potter, he was returning to Gryffindor Tower with Weasley and Granger." He responded, his distain evident in every syllable he spoke.

"Excellent-"

"Excellent?" Sirius asked in disbelief, his anger returning quickly. "I presume you know that he has stopped giving Harry Occlumency lessons? He is putting my godson at risk-"

"As I have told you, that insolent little brat broke into my private property-"

"I don't give a shit!" Sirius responded forcefully. "He's tired of having everything hid from him and he made a mistake but that does not give you the right-"

"Enough." Dumbledore hadn't raised his voice but his tone suggested there was no room for discussion. "This is neither the time nor the place to discuss this now. Please, Sirius." He added, raising a hand when Sirius opened his mouth to argue. "We will speak of this later. There are more important matters at hand."

"Doctor," Remus began kindly, leaning forward on the table. "You said you were here to pass on a message. Was it from someone in the Order?"

"Yes." Albert said with a nod of his head. "I received a letter from Minerva McGonagall a few days ago detailing how to find Mr Dumbledore and who to bring to this meeting. In strict confidence, of course."

"That's not possible." Snape interjected coldly. "Minerva McGonagall is currently in St. Mungo's after a vicious attack. She is in no position to be organising meetings."

Albert only smiled. "I never said it was your Minerva McGonagall, did I?"

A confused silence followed this statement. Remus and Sirius shared a questioning glance but it seemed that neither of them could make sense from the man's words.

"You must forgive us again, Doctor." Dumbledore replied, his eyes twinkling in the firelight. "I am afraid we are rather lost in this matter."

Sirius frowned at Dumbledore. He had felt some unease since the man's arrival but Dumbledore appeared completely relaxed. In fact, he seemed like he was enjoying himself.

"I believe that in your world, the theory of time-travel is less of a theory, correct?" Albert said gruffly. "The letter I received stated that it was written in 2002."

"Impossible." Remus said tensely. "Time travel can occur in world, indeed but to send information back that length of time is unheard of."

"And yet it has been heard of, Remus." Dumbledore said patiently. Remus turned his head and stared at Dumbledore in open astonishment.

"Rumours, Albus! You don't believe this, surely?"

"Not rumours, Remus...it's been proven." Sirius said quietly, his nose wrinkled in disgust. "It can't be done by any legal manner. It's very Dark magic."

"You've heard of this?"

Sirius laughed bitterly. "I think you're forgetting who I was raised by, Moony." He finished with a wave of his hand around the kitchen. "I've heard of it being attempted before but never successfully. It's killed more people than none. I can't see McGonagall doing it."

"We don't know the reasons behind it. Or what lengths she felt she needed to resort to-"

"Potter." Snape said quietly.

"What?" Sirius asked through gritted teeth. Snape raised his head and peered at Sirius through his greasy hair, a nasty look forming across his face.

"This has Potter's scent all over it. It's not the first time that he has completely disregarded the rules of our world for his own selfish gain."

Sirius had brought his fist down on the table without even realising he had moved. "Don't you say another word against my godson, Snape!"

"Enough!" Dumbledore repeated more firmly. "I have asked both of you to put aside these petty grudges in the face of this war. You have not done as I have asked but if you cannot treat each other civilly whilst in each other's presence then I will ask you to remove yourselves from this meeting."

Albert cleared his throat loudly and reached into his suit pocket to retrieve a small wooden box, placing it on the table. "If you don't mind, we're rather pressed for time."

Opening the box, Albert withdrew a small bowl which after second glance, Sirius realised was a miniature version of the Pensieve he had only ever seen in Dumbledore's office.

"Well I think that proves it." Dumbledore said happily. "No one but the true Headmaster of Hogwarts would have been able to retrieve that from my office and as my office has currently sealed itself we can only deduct that it has come from another time."

"How do you come to that conclusion?" Sirius asked. "It could have been purchased elsewhere."

"Quite impossible, my boy." Dumbledore responded, his eyes twinkling. "I have only made one in my existence."

"This-this is one of your inventions?" Remus asked, clearly awed. "Unbelievable."

"Yes, quite ingenious, if I do say so." Dumbledore responded with a smile.

Albert laughed heartedly and shook his head. "Very modest, aren't you, Mr Dumbledore?"

"I like to think so, yes. Oh...allow me." Dumbledore retrieved his wand and walked around the table to enlarge the Pensieve and the contents of the box. Albert reached in and pulled a glass vial from its velvet holder and poured the silver liquid into the bowl.

"If you think I'm sticking my head into that, you have another thing coming." Sirius said crossing his arms across his chest.

"Ever the Gryffindor bravery." Snape sneered.

"I'll go first." Remus said calmly, sensing another argument building and got to his feet stiffly. He bent over the shimmering liquid and with a bright flash, he disappeared from sight. Dumbledore followed soon after until only Sirius and Snape were left in the room with their unusual guest. With a scathing look in Snape's direction, Sirius walked towards the end of the table and after taking a deep breath, bent over the Pensieve. Sirius felt the ground shift and disappear beneath his feet and he barely had time to steady himself before he fell head-first into chaos.

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><p><strong>NA: **Well, there you have it...not my favourite chapter but it's up at least. Even I can admit the writing is awful, and rushed and I can never write James...we just don't know enough about him to get into character. Poo... Please review. It does give me a little boost to continue writing. I like to know if I'm on the right track.

As for the conversation between James and Sirius, I was always quite confused by this so correct me if I'm wrong...we know Dumbledore heard the prophecy in 1980, he probably deducted soon after that that it would mean Harry or Neville but he only suggested the Fidelius Charm in Oct 1981, over a year later? I took that to mean that, Dumbledore told the Potter's and Longbottom's to go into hiding (which if we remember Lily's letter to Sirius, saying that James was frustrated about being locked up, then we can assume that's right) and then during that year, after receiving information from Peter... Voldemort decided to target Harry specifically. He told his death eaters and that is when Snape went to Dumbledore who then told James and Lily to perform the Fidelius Charm... Does that sound right to everyone, or am I missing vital information?

Anyways, please review x x


	8. Chapter 8

**A/N: **Thank you for the reviews as always. On to chapter 9! This is the first time we see the memories, so to avoid confusion:

"This is normal conversation."

_"This is memory conversation." _Said the memory of Hedwig'sOwl, _"Watch for the double speech-marks"_

_'These are thoughts in Sirius's mind.' said Hedwig'sOwl, 'Single speech-marks and everything in italics.'_

Enjoy! x x

**Disclaimer:** I am not J K Rowling. Any characters, places, names or quotes you recognise are hers- any you don't are mine. :)

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><p><strong>Chapter 8:<strong>

Sirius' feet landed on solid ground. He looked around quickly and found himself in a large, rectangular room which appeared empty except for the several Death Eaters who stood staring in their direction, their wands raised in obvious threat. It was quite unnerving. It took a second, in which his hand had twitched towards his wand in his pocket in defence, for him to realise that this was not reality. Snape landed beside him silently but Sirius paid no heed to him and instead turned towards Remus whose face was pale and drawn.

"Where are we?" He asked, though he was sure he knew the answer already.

"The Department of Mysteries." Remus responded tensely, his eyes narrowed in the direction of the Death Eaters. Sirius felt his heart contract at the confirmation and his eyes unconsciously flicked towards Dumbledore in concern but he was looking beyond Sirius, something akin to fear flashing across his face. Sirius began to turn towards what kept him so captive but a movement to his left drew his attention. A Death Eater was walking towards them. A mask adorned his features but the sight of the long blond hair beneath his hood told Sirius that this was none other than Lucius Malfoy.

"_Potter-" _the memory spoke and Sirius turned on his heel quickly to look behind him. He felt something cold settle in the pit of his stomach as he came face to face with the panicked features of his godson. _"your race is run...now hand me the prophecy like a good boy."_

"No..." Sirius heard himself say, his voice barely a whisper. "Why is he here?"

No one answered Sirius, all too enthralled with the events unfolding before them. He was sure he heard a mumbled "_foolish boy_" coming from Snape's direction yet it was without his usual contempt.

_"Let - let the others go, and I'll give it to you!" _Harry said and Sirius could hear the pleading in his tone. The Death Eaters at his back laughed and Sirius looked around desperately, willing himself to appear in the room, for anyone to come to Harry's defence but he no one came; he was alone and out-numbered.

_"You are not in a position to bargain, Potter," _taunted Malfoy, coming to a stop next to Sirius, his face filled with excitement. Sirius felt his hands clench and wished for nothing more than to hit him but he knew it would have been as futile as attacking the wind. **"**_You see, there are ten of us and only one of you… or hasn't Dumbledore ever taught you how to count?"_

"You son of a-" Sirius grated between clenched teeth but his anger was cut short when a tremor went through Remus' body.

"Move, Harry...move now." He whispered fiercely, his eyes wide and terrified as he stared at Harry. Sirius turned in his godson's direction and for the first time since he landed in the Pensieve he saw what his godson was standing before.

"What is that?" Sirius asked, his brow drawn in confusion. To him it seemed like no threat; nothing but a tattered piece of material hung from crumbling stone but the fear in Remus' voice unsettled him.

"The Veil of Death" Dumbledore responded, his voice even and strangely detached. Sirius felt his eyes widen in shock but when he tried to speak he was cut off again.

_"He's dot alone!"_ A voice sounded above them and Sirius turned to see a boy who looked strangely familiar to him scrambling down the stone benches towards them, wand in hand. His voice was muffled beneath the blood streaming from his broken nose. _"He's still god be!"_

"_Neville - no - go back to Ron_ -" Harry's shaky voice reached Sirius but his gaze was focused on the familiar boy who unsuccessfully trying to stun the Death Eaters. He watched helplessly as he was grabbed from behind and held captive despite his valiant struggles.

_"It's Longbottom, isn't it?" _And then Sirius realised why the boy looked so familiar to him, beyond perhaps having spotted him once or twice at Hogwarts. He was the son of his old friends, Frank and Alice, who he had learned had been so cruelly tortured into insanity by his cousin after he had been sent to Azkaban. A new swell of hate rose in Sirius as he stared at the boy. Here, before him, was further evidence of Voldemort's destruction...another loving family torn apart because of this war...because of his family._ "Well, your grandmother is used to losing family members to our cause… your death will not come as a great shock."_

_"Longbottom? Why, I have had the pleasure of meeting your parents, boy,"_ Sirius felt himself stiffen at the shrieking voice. He turned his head and came in contact with his cousin for the first time in years. Without conscious thought, Sirius lunged forward but was prevented from taking a single step by the strong hand on his arm.

"There's nothing you can do, Sirius." Remus said calmly yet Sirius could see the burning fury in his amber eyes. "We can only watch."

_"No, no, no," Bellatrix taunted excitedly. "No, let's see how long Longbottom lasts before he cracks like his parents… unless Potter wants to give us the prophecy."_

And Sirius knew what was coming, knew better than anyone what his vile cousin was capable of. He knew just as Neville knew and despite the situation he couldn't help but think how like his parents he was; how brave he remained in spite of his fear and for standing at his godson's side even when it seemed all hope was lost. For that, and that alone, Neville Longbottom had gained his respect.

_"DON'D GIB ID DO DEM!" _roared Neville, and Sirius could feel Remus' fingers digging into his flesh. He had obviously grown to care for the boy when he had been his Professor. He knew, at least that Frank and Alice had meant a lot to Remus as well._ "DON'D GIB ID DO DEM, HARRY!"_

Sirius swore under as breath as Neville screamed in agony. From the corner of his eye, he thought he saw a frenzied movement come from Dumbledore but when he turned, the man was deadly still yet no one could mistake that fury on his face. Strangely, for the first time, Sirius realised that these weren't just the sons of their old friends but Dumbledore's students as well. And nothing mattered more to Albus Dumbledore than the safety of his students. Sirius heard a thump as Neville hit the ground and his heart went out to the boy as he began to sob at her feet.

Bellatrix turned towards Harry and Sirius wanted nothing more than to curse her for even breathing near his godson. _"Now, Potter, either give us the prophecy, or watch your little friend die the hard way!"_

Harry glanced at Neville's broken form slumped on the floor for a second before he held out the prophecy without pause. Sirius fought the mad desire to knock it out of his hand, to shatter it so Voldemort could never hear of its contents. The risk to Harry would be unspeakable but he knew his godson would not hesitate. He was too good to see his friend suffer because of his indecision. Malfoy lunged forward to grasp it yet before his hand even came close, the sound of doors banging echoed through the room and Sirius looked up to see himself, Remus, Tonks, Mad-eye and Kingsley enter the fray.

He barely had time to feel relieved before a beam of red light flew toward him, yet when it reached him it penetrated his chest and passed through him without injury. He stumbled slightly in shock and heard Malfoy collapse at his back. An amused sound came from the back of Snape's throat at the sight yet he looked away when Sirius met his eyes with a glare. Pushing his annoyance away, Sirius turned toward Harry again yet he had disappeared. Flashes of light erupted around him and bodies streaked past him but Sirius only had eyes for his godson.

"No..." Sirius said as he ran to Harry's side. A Death Eater had his arm pressed so tightly against Harry's throat that his eyes watered and his face turned red. He was slowly killing him. Sirius frantically turned to find himself amongst the battle yet his attention was focused on a Death Eater some distance away, completely oblivious to Harry's predicament.

A violent scream sounded behind him and he turned in time to see Neville lunge at the pair and force his wand into the Death Eater's eye. Sirius grinned "Atta boy, Neville."

Sirius turned his back towards Harry and Neville and quickly took in his surroundings. He felt helpless. He couldn't stand being here and yet unable to help...it was torture. He cursed softly when he saw Tonks' motionless body lying upon one of the stone tiers. Mad-eye was laying unconscious a few feet from him, blood pouring from a wound in his head and his eye socket empty and gapping. Dolohov stepped over his unmoving body and walked quickly towards Harry and Neville.

_"Tarantallegra!"_ he shouted, his wand pointing at Neville, whose legs began to jerk as he crashed to the floor again. Dolohov lifted his wand towards Harry but he was just as quick as the Death Eater and a shield charm quickly erupted around him. The force of Dolohov's curse penetrated Harry's shield and he stumbled and fell across Neville's kicking legs. Sirius looked up in time to see the Death Eater he had been duelling fall to ground and the look of fury that flashed over his features at the sight of Dolohov standing over his godson's vulnerable form. With a furious sprint he shouldered into the man and knocked him backwards. He barely had time to take up the duel when his godson cursed Dolohov, causing him to stiffen and crash to the floor. Sirius smiled. Harry was as determined to protect him, as Sirius was to protect Harry.

_"Nice one!" _He heard himself shout, forcing Harry's head down as a pair of Stunning spells flew towards them. _"Now I want you to get out of-"_

He breathed out a sigh of relief as the Killing Curse that hurtled towards him and missed him by inches. Sirius heard himself telling Harry to go and Harry hastened to obey. Turning back towards the others, Sirius arrived at Remus' side in time to hear Snape say: "This is humiliating. They can't even defend themselves against under-age wizards."

Sirius smirked. "My godson is no ordinary under-age wizard, Snape." He said, not surprised at the hint of pride that laced his tone. "It's surprising that you're not here defending your comrades if you're so concerned about their safety."

"That...doesn't help matters, Sirius." Dumbledore said calmly as Malfoy was blasted through the air by Harry, landing on the stone platform. Remus made a strangled noise at his side and when he followed his line of sight, he knew why. Himself and Bellatrix were duelling fiercely next to the Veil, completely unaware of their surroundings.

_"DUBBLEDORE!"_ Neville's voice echoed through the cavernous room and Sirius spun in his direction. And there he was, standing in the open doorway - Albus Dumbledore, tall and powerful; his face white with fury. Remus save a shuddering breath of relief and the real Dumbledore who stood beside him seemed appeased that he had arrived in time. He rushed down the stone steps, pulling the Death Eaters who had tried to scramble from the room back as easily as drawing breath. In no time, he had rounded everyone up...all except one.

_"Come on, you can do better than that!"_ Sirius heard himself shout as he dodged a Stunning Spell yet his reactions were slower than usual. He was unprepared, untrained for battle and the second jet hit him on the chest.

Sirius mirrored his own reactions as he watched himself fall, his eyes wide with shock; his body trembling. It felt as though the sound had been sucked out of the room. He heard nothing. Not the sounds of the tiring battle at his back, not the panicked words of his friend at his side: he could only stand there and watch as he stumbled and disappeared behind the Veil. He heard Bellatrix's triumphant scream as though he were watching the events from a distance, without thought or feeling. And only one shaky thought could be heard through his shock: He was dead.

How strange it was to stand here; flesh and heart and breath, and watch yourself be murdered – in the near future anyway. He couldn't shake the small part of him that hoped he was still alive, that he would shake off whatever effect the Veil had on him and rejoin the battle. Sirius knew it would have been something he would have done as a child: hide behind the Veil, waiting for the opportune moment to make his grand appearance. But he wasn't a child anymore and he could still hear the fear in Remus' voice when he saw Harry standing next to it. Time seemed to stop as he stared at the Veil, willing himself to reappear. But he was gone. The Veil was still. This death too was final.

"Shit..." he whispered desperately. Sirius closed his eyes and gripped the back of his hair with his hands as if to shield himself from attack. This is what his life had become - going from one prison to another only to be ripped from this life so easily, so cruelly? Broken images from his past streamed around his mind like a whirlwind. He couldn't believe it. He didn't want to believe it. Sirius knew he was faster than this, his reflexes were better than this. Duelling had always been his best skill before Azkaban. But he couldn't blame Azkaban for his death. No, Sirius had done this to himself. He had spent a year destroying his body; drinking whiskey, barely eating, torturing himself with things he couldn't change. The blame lay with him and him alone. The knowledge that it was his insane cousin who had done the deed only added insult to injury.

But then, on its own accord, a thought rose in his mind that provided some solace to him. Wasn't his how he wanted to go? He wasn't afraid of dying, knew that there were things worth dying for and could think of no better way to go than dying to protect the only family he had left. Yes, that was some small source of comfort to Sirius in the face of all this but a much larger part of him was still drowning in hate and anger at himself for leaving. And for some reason he could hear Dumbledore's words to him earlier in the year, playing in the back of his head: _"Getting yourself killed will not bring back James and Lily, Sirius. It will not undo the events of that night. Do not throw your life away...there are some who cannot afford to lose anymore."_

A warm, rough hand gripped the back of his neck and Sirius raised his head to stare into the grief-stricken eyes of Dumbledore. He could see his lips were moving but his words were indistinguishable to Sirius' ears. He looked beyond him and saw Remus, frozen in place, his wide amber eyes shining with unshed tears. Blank shock showed in Snape's face for a moment, but then it was gone and his expression was unreadable once more.

"_SIRIUS!_" Harry's terrified scream echoed around the room and Sirius jumped as the sound in the room returned, deafening him. Time had not stopped it seemed, the memory they stood in was still unfolding before them. Harry was still in danger.

"Harry..." Sirius whispered turning to face his godson, his heart contracting. He had forgotten Harry was there; had witnessed his godfather's murder and was now running towards the Veil intent on following him through, if the look on his face told him anything. Sirius ran forward, his hands outstretched trying to stop him but he disappeared like smoke through his fingertips. The memory of Remus, who had been staring at the Veil with frozen shock on his features, much like his real counterpart, jumped at the sound of Harry and rushed forward. Sirius sighed in relief as Remus grabbed Harry around the chest, preventing him from running through.

And then, he wished he could hear no more, see no more. The sound of his godson calling to him when he knew he couldn't answer was more than he could bear. Sirius covered his ears with his palms to block out the screams but he knew the look of grief on Harry's face would be etched in his memory forever. Beams of light flashed and grunts of pain sounded around them but Sirius paid no heed to them. He stood silently, Dumbledore's strong hand on his shoulder, watching his friend and godson struggling against each other.

"I'm here, Harry." Sirius heard himself speak. "I'm right here..."

The ache in his chest redoubled when he saw realisation flash across Harry's face and he collapsed in Remus' arms, a scream tearing from his throat. It was a sound of pure, unadulterated grief. The hand of his shoulder clenched painfully in response and Sirius turned to see the pain flicker in Dumbledore's eyes as he stared at Harry and Remus.

_Remus. _Sirius dropped his hands and spun to face his friend who was standing a few feet from them, his face pale. He looked as if he had faced twelve full-moons in the course of a few minutes. Their eyes locked and he could see the guilt reflected in the deep amber eyes. Sirius tried to smile but it felt like a grimace and he shook his head softly, silently trying to communicate how sorry he was for leaving his friend all alone again.

"_Harry-no!"_ cried the memory of Remus and Sirius turned to see Kingsley lying on the floor, Bellatrix running from the room and Harry chasing her, his face contorted in anger.

"_SHE KILLED SIRIUS. SHE KILLED HIM I'LL KILL HER!"_ Harry yelled as he climbed up the stone steps. Remus started to chase after him, calling his name. Dumbledore and Moody, who had currently revived himself and was lying next to Tonks' unconscious body, joined the calls but Harry didn't stop and faster than Sirius could blink, he was nearly at the door Bellatrix had disappeared from.

"Harry, don't..." Sirius whispered sadly. It was the same anger Harry felt that had propelled Sirius to run after Peter when Lily and James had been murdered. And that act alone, had ruined his life.

The memory of Dumbledore turned to hold a hand out to Remus which stopped him in his tracks. _"Attend to the others, Remus. I will go."_

Sirius smiled slightly as he saw Remus place a restraining hand on Neville's arm, whose legs had returned to normal, as he made to follow Harry. The scene shifted around them, colours blurring into each other until the settled and they stood in the Atrium in front of the golden statue, facing Harry who looked so deranged Sirius felt the breath catch in his throat. He had never seen such violence upon Harry's face, even when he had come face to face with the man who had betrayed his parents.

_"Potter, I'm going to give you one chance!" _shouted the memory Bellatrix, her voice echoing through the room, and Sirius raised his eyes to see her beyond the statue, where his cousin stood haughtily, her wand raised._ "Give me the prophecy - roll it out towards me now - and I may spare your life!"_

_"Well, you're going to have to kill me, because it's gone!" _Harry roared in return, his face twisted in pain, tears streaming from his eyes. _"And he knows! Your dear old mate Voldemort knows it's gone! He's not going to be happy with you, is he?"_

And when he laughed, shivers raced down his spine because it sounded nothing like Harry. It was cold and maniac and when Harry's eyes swivelled in his direction, Sirius was sure he saw a glint of red amongst the green. He wasn't the only one, it seemed.

"He's accessing his thoughts?" Remus asked shakily. Dumbledore sighed heavily and nodded, gripping his forehead with his thumb and forefinger. He looked old and tired.

"So it seems." Dumbledore replied softly. "We should be glad the prophecy has been destroyed without Harry hearing it, if what he is saying is truth. And I believe it is. Otherwise Voldemort could obtain the knowledge from Harry himself."

"Did you see it smash?" said Sirius.

"No." Dumbledore replied simply. "The rage Harry is feeling is not solely his own."

Sirius turned his head slowly to Snape, feeling his own rage build with Harry's maniac laugh. "You did this." He said coldly. Snape didn't move, didn't flinch when he returned the glare steadily but Sirius could have sworn he had grown paler with the accusation.

"No, Sirius." Dumbledore said tiredly finally raising his head. "The fault lies with me. I would have taught him myself if I didn't fear the risk to Harry but either way Occlumency would not have worked at this moment, whether Severus succeeded in teaching Harry or not."

"Then you're a fool too! How can Occlumency not protect his mind now?" Sirius raged.

Dumbledore smiled sadly. "You misunderstand me Sirius. I do not mean that Occlumency was not important to Harry. I simply mean that even the most accomplished Occlumens would struggle to close their mind after they have lost someone so dear to them."

Sirius bit his tongue against his anger. He could still hear Harry and Bellatrix voices in the background but his attention was on Dumbledore alone. Although, he felt some savage pleasure at hearing the terror in Bellatrix's voice.

"But if he tries to possess him-"

"No," Dumbledore said heavily, "I fear worse."

His gaze passed beyond Sirius to something behind him and his face hardened. At the same time he heard Bellatrix scream: "_MASTER, I TRIED, I TRIED - DO NOT PUNISH ME"_

_"Don't waste your breath!" _yelled Harry, as something cold settled in Sirius' stomach. He tried to turn but he seemed frozen on the spot._ "He can't hear you from here!"_

_"Can't I, Potter?"_said a high, cold voice behind him and Sirius' worse fear was confirmed. Against his own will, his body turned and there standing before him was a sight he had not seen in over fourteen years. Lord Voldemort had appeared in the Atrium, wrapped in black robes, his white snakelike face more terrifying than Sirius remembered, and his wand trained on Harry who stood unmoving at his back. Remus gave a shuddering breath and a visible tremor went through Snape, whether in fear or awe, Sirius did not know.

_"So, you smashed my prophecy?"_ said Voldemort, his soft tone more terrifying than if he had screamed. "_No, Bella, he is not lying… I see the truth looking at me from within his worthless mind…months of preparation, months of effort… and my Death Eaters have let Harry Potter thwart me again"_

And there it was, through the fear and his rapidly beating heart...pride. He couldn't help it. Sirius Black had truly been blessed when he had been made Harry's godfather. He was honoured to know him, to have died by his side.

_"Master, I am sorry I knew not, I was fighting the Animagus Black!"_ sobbed Bellatrix and Sirius watched in disgust as she flung herself down at Voldemort's feet in subservience; hating that he could claim any familiarity to the vile woman. _"Master, you should know…"_

_"Be quiet, Bella,"_ said Voldemort dangerously. "_I shall deal with you in a moment. Do you think I have entered the Ministry of Magic to hear your sniveling apologies?"_

"_But Master - he is here - he is below"_

Sirius closed his eyes and prayed to the high heavens that Dumbledore was faster than he looked. If he could get here in time then no more would be lost.

_"I have nothing more to say to you, Potter,"_ he said quietly. "_You have irked me too often, for too long. AVADA KEDAVRA!"_

"No!" Remus screamed but Sirius could only stand in terror as he watched the green beam of light soar towards his godson. Harry's wand was pointing towards the floor and a look of defeat crossed his face as he stared at Voldemort. It was as if the fight had gone out of him, and Sirius feared that it had to do with his death. Sirius raised a hand to his heart as the golden statue sprung to life and jumped between Harry and Voldemort, deflecting the deadly spell. Sirius turned towards the golden gates, his heart thumping in his chest and spotted Dumbledore, his wand raised, his face a mask of calm. Sirius rubbed at his chest. At this rate, he would die of heart failure before the night was through.

Sirius glanced once at his godson, who was trapped between the wall and the solid golden statue before he turned his attention towards the two wizards as they duelled. He had fought by Dumbledore's side many times before his arrest but he had never witnessed the extent of the man's power before tonight; he had never seen him duel Voldemort and even though he was watching a memory - an imprint of reality - Sirius couldn't help the shivers that raced along his skin as he watched them. It was truly a sight to behold. Every eye in the hall was glued to the scene unfolding before them and Sirius felt his heart pounding slightly in awe of Dumbledore's sheer ability and disgust at how deep Voldemort had submerged himself in the Dark Arts. His magic was repulsive yet terrifying in his greatness.

Dumbledore flicked his wand again and the spell he cast sent a chilling, echoing sound reverberating around the Atrium as it bounced off the silver shield surrounding Voldemort. Even the water in the fountain rippled in response.

_"You do not seek to kill me, Dumbledore?"_ called Voldemort, yet Sirius could see he was unsettled by the spell that was cast. _"Above such brutality, are you?"_

_"We both know that there are other ways of destroying a man, Tom,"_ Dumbledore said calmly, continuing to walk along the hall towards Voldemort. Sirius felt a smile tug at his lips. It was times like this and not during their many heated discussions that Sirius remembered why he respected Albus Dumbledore so much. Quite frankly, he was an impressive man. _"Merely taking your life would not satisfy me, I admit."_

"That was almost callous of you, Dumbledore." Sirius said with a smirk. Dumbledore smiled slightly in return but his eyes were cold and for the first time Sirius saw behind that calm façade to the disgust that lingered beneath. Dumbledore truly hated Voldemort. It strangely surprised him. Not that Sirius thought the old man had any feelings towards him, but he had never seen such naked emotion coming from him. During meetings, Dumbledore only ever showed slight anger or disappointment when discussing the wizard. At times, Sirius had thought that, during his long life, Dumbledore had lost the ability to hate. That he had risen above it. It seemed that it did not fade with age or experience.

"What spell did you cast, Albus?" Remus asked quietly. "I don't believe I've seen it used before."

"It is Old Magic, Remus." Albus said simply, his eyebrows furrowed into a slight frown. "The very thing that is being studied beneath our feet in the Department of Mysteries. Love." He explained, seeing their confused expressions. "To a soul so damaged, it would cause unbearable pain had it reached its target. And perhaps, it could have undone some of the evil Voldemort had performed." He finished quietly as if speaking to himself.

"MASTER!" Bellatrix screamed and Sirius saw a flicker of movement to his side as Harry ran out from behind the statue of the wizard. Voldemort had vanished leaving Bellatrix cowering beneath the statue of the witch-

_Stay where you are, Harry!"_

And nothing worried Sirius more than hearing the fear in Dumbledore's voice. He knew there was only one reason for it, the thing that had frightened them all for a year. Sirius could do nothing but watch helplessly as his godson stiffened visibly; his skin grew white and gaunt before him, the vibrant green of his eyes grew red, and he collapsed to the ground and began to twitch so violently his glasses slipped from his nose.

Sirius closed his eyes at the sight unable to witness anymore of his godson's suffering but he knew the memory was far from over; somehow he was sure of it.

_"Kill me now, Dumbledore…"_ A cold, piercing voice sounded around him, forcing Sirius to open his eyes. He awoke in a nightmare. Harry was lying on his stomach; his head raised slightly, his red pitiless eyes locked with Dumbledore's. His body was trembling violently where he lay. Without knowing what happened, Sirius fell to his knees and stared into the features he knew so well that were now contorted in agony so much he barely recognised his own godson. The sight turned his stomach and he felt bile rise in his throat. Harry's jaw twisted so much, Sirius was surprised it didn't break in two as the chilling voice spoke again. **"**_If death is nothing, Dumbledore, kill the boy…"_

"Dumbledore..." Sirius pleaded. "Do something."

"There is nothing I can do." Dumbledore said sadly as his counterpart dropped to the floor slowly and reached a withered hand forward on the ground, stopping short of touching Harry.

_"Harry..." _The memory of Dumbledore said softly, his voice wavering slightly. Sirius forced himself to look back into those blood-red eyes and instead a flicker passed over his face. It was pleading and somehow Sirius knew he was asking Dumbledore to kill him. His heart broke at the thought but he couldn't help the hope that blossomed in the pit of his stomach. As difficult as it was, that look was the first time he saw Harry in his features and he knew there was a chance he could come through it. _Come on Harry, _he thought_, you're stronger than this. If you can fight off Voldemort's Imperius then you can fight off this..._

And then, with a torn, ragged sound, Harry jerked as if something had been pulled from him and he collapsed on the floor, shivering violently. Sirius breathed out a sigh but didn't have time to voice his shock to the others. Flames had erupted in the fireplaces and witches and wizards swarmed into the hall, the statues of the house-elf and goblin leading the crowd. The crunch of metal breaking sounded across the Atrium as Voldemort flung aside the witch covering Bellatrix, grabbed her roughly and disappeared from sight.

Sirius barely had time to get to his feet before the scene blurred once more, colours fused into one and light swirled around them until it calmed and shifted into the Headmaster's office. Dumbledore and Harry were alone in the room. Sirius only had time to notice that the portraits surrounding the walls were wide awake and watching the two men with a mixture of confusion and wariness before Harry spoke.

_"I don't want to talk about how I feel, all right?" _He said loudly from his position next to the window. His body trembling with repressed rage and Sirius knew it wouldn't be long before he snapped. Harry had been pushed to the limit this night.

_"Harry, suffering like this proves you are still a man! This pain is part of being human." _The memory of Dumbledore responded, his face so emotionless it could have been carved from stone.

"_THEN - I - DON'T - WANT - TO - BE - HUMAN!"_ He screamed, overturning a table of instruments and Sirius reacted, unable to contemplate the words his godson was speaking. It was too much.

"Why are you doing this to him?" Sirius seethed at Dumbledore. "What is this accomplishing?"

"Surely, Albus...this can wait?" Remus said shakily. "He's been through enough tonight."

"I believe I am trying to make him feel." Dumbledore said quietly.

"Feel? FEEL!" Sirius roared. "OF COURSE HE FEELS-LOOK AT HIM!" Sirius said, pointing a shaking hand in Harry's direction. He ignored the indignant yells of the portraits around the room.

"_Listen_ to him, Sirius." Dumbledore said calmly without turning away from the memory of Harry. Sirius turned back towards Harry in time to see him pick up a lunascope and hurl it into the fire where it smashed.

_"I DON'T CARE!"_ Harry yelled, grabbing another table and throwing it across the room._ "I'VE HAD ENOUGH, I'VE SEEN ENOUGH, I WANT OUT, I WANT IT TO END, I DON'T CARE ANY MORE."_

And with those few words, Sirius' fears were confirmed – what he thought when he watched the Killing Curse soar towards him – his godson had been pushed to the end of his endurance. The spark in him that longed for life had been extinguished. Sirius knew of it all too well. He struggled with it every day; trying to find the will to keep going. But he never wanted this for Harry.

_"You do care,"_ said Dumbledore. _"You care so much you feel as though you will bleed to death with the pain of it."_

_"I - DON'T!"_ Harry screamed, his face contorted so much that Sirius was momentarily was reminded of the possession that had occurred only a few moments ago. But Sirius knew that this anger, this pain was Harry's alone. He was torn. A part of Sirius wanted to rail at Dumbledore for making Harry feel like this so soon after his death but a much larger part of him wished that Harry was here in person, not just memory so he could shake him, tell him he wasn't worth the pain he was feeling until the life came back to his eyes.

_"Oh, yes, you do,_" said Dumbledore, still more calmly. _"You have now lost your mother, your father, and the closest thing to a parent you have ever known. Of course you care."_

Sirius covered his face with his hands. He didn't want to hear these painful truths anymore. He wanted to crawl away from the world and not have to listen, no matter how cowardly it sounded.

_Isn't that what you've done, Sirius?_ A voice inside him said. _After all your fighting, you've become a true Black in the end; allowing yourself to feel only anger and resentment until everything you touch turns to ash. Grimmauld Place is only bricks and water, Sirius...the hell you're in, you've made yourself._

The familiar feeling of guilt settled in Sirius' chest like a lead weight but this time it was not for the part he played in James and Lily's death. It was for his actions the past year. He only just realised how much he had ruined the short time they had together, too busy resenting the world for what his life had become, never realising that Harry had needed him just as much as Sirius had needed Harry. He didn't want to hear that niggling voice in the back of his mind but it was right. It wasn't the first time Sirius had felt guilt at his behaviour but he had always brushed it off, ignored anyone who tried to make him see sense. His life, it seemed, had become one long list of mistakes.

_"Let me out,"_ Harry's cold voice brought him out of his thoughts and he turned to see that Harry had crossed the room towards the door, his hand on the doorknob, his haunted gaze turned toward Dumbledore.

_"Not until I have had my say,"_ said Dumbledore.

_"Do you - do you think I want to - do you think I give a - I DON'T CARE WHAT YOU'VE GOT TO SAY!_" Harry roared. _"I don't want to hear anything you've got to say!"_

_"You will,_" said Dumbledore steadily. _"Because you are not nearly as angry with me as you ought to be. If you are to attack me, as I know you are close to doing, I would like to have thoroughly earned it."_

"Harry would never attack you, Albus." Remus said quietly. "He respects you too much. He is just...grieving." He sighed heavily and Sirius placed a strong hand on his shoulder in comfort.

"I cannot say I would not deserve it." Dumbledore responded quietly, his head turned towards the rising sun beyond the window pane. He looked so old and tired; Sirius could not feel anything but sympathy. He wished he could retain some of the anger he had felt towards Dumbledore during the year for keeping him locked up in Grimmauld Place but he couldn't. All he felt now was exhaustion.

_"It is my fault that Sirius died," _said Dumbledore clearly._ "Or should I say, almost entirely my fault-I will not be so arrogant as to claim responsibility for the whole. Sirius was a brave, clever and energetic man, and such men are not usually content to sit at home in hiding while they believe others to be in danger. Nevertheless, you should never have believed for an instant that there was any necessity for you to go to the Department of Mysteries tonight. If I had been open with you, Harry, as I should have been, you would have known a long time ago that Voldemort might try and lure you to the Department of Mysteries, and you would never have been tricked into going there tonight. And Sirius would not have had to come after you. That blame lies with me, and with me alone."_

"Not only you." Sirius said coldly as he turned his head towards Snape's unmoving form, yet he stiffened as Sirius's eyes locked with his.

"You have the gall to blame me for your own stupidity, Black?" Snape asked quietly, his voice a callous whisper. "If you wish to blame someone...blame your godson."

"Severus!" Dumbledore said sharply but Sirius cut across his words.

"What the hell does that mean, Snape?" Sirius seethed between clenched teeth. "Harry is not to blame for this!"

"Is that so?" Snape said silkily. "Did it ever cross your pathetic mind that your godson never once attempted to close his thoughts to the Dark Lord? The art of Occlumency is a difficult practice; it is not comforting in any way and even a person more adept than your lazy, conceited godson would struggle to learn it. I have told him many times the risk of having this connection - that the Dark Lord would use it to his advantage and yet he still believed himself above my commands. It was Potter's arrogance that led to your downfall...not any mistake on my part of the Headmaster's."

"Severus-" Dumbledore said again more firmly. "That is enough."

"No, let him speak, Dumbledore." Sirius said without looking away from Snape. "And were you teaching him, Snape? Or were you using your lessons to torture him for our treatment of you? Perhaps it was your plan all along to open his mind to Voldemort?"

Snape narrowed his eyes until they were nothing but black slits against sallow skin. "If it were, it would have been easily done. I do not need to convince you of my allegiance, Black. I do not care for your opinion. Had it been my wish to pass Potter into the Dark Lord's grasp, I would have not alerted the Order to his disappearance."

Sirius laughed bitterly. "And what makes you think it was you?"

"That organ between your ears is not only for gathering dust, dog...try to use it." Snape sneered. "The Headmaster has been removed from the school. Minerva was transferred to St. Mungo's late this evening. Who else do you think divulged Potter's whereabouts?"

"Oh but that is very clever of you, Snape." Sirius responded. "Better not show your true allegiance too early: Might make things more difficult for you. I gave Harry a means of communicating with me-"

But Sirius stopped short when he realised that Harry must not have used the mirror. If he had, then Sirius would have been able to dispel any fear that would have caused Harry to walk into the Hall of Prophecies. Snape clearly had the same thought because he smiled cruelly.

"Obviously he has not used said means of communication. Perhaps he has finally realised what a burden his worthless godfather really is." Sirius recoiled as if he had been slapped and Snape smirked in triumph.

"How dare you!" Remus raged, his fists clenched at his side and Sirius stared at him in blank shock. It was the first time he had ever seen Remus lose his temper towards Snape since they were pupils. Dumbledore sighed heavily and ran a hand over his tired face.

"I think you have all said enough, don't you?" Dumbledore said calmly. "This is not why we are here." He finished with a wave of his hand towards his counterpart and Harry.

"I don't want him here." Sirius said with a finger pointing towards Snape. "I don't trust him with this information."

"That is not your decision to make, Sirius." Dumbledore responded. "Nor is it mine. We must only trust whoever brought us together."

Sirius grit his teeth and with a great effort forced his attention back to the memory. Harry and Dumbledore were sitting now and his godson looked so defeated slumped in his chair that Sirius had to repress the urge again to go to him and shake him out of his trance. Sirius shook his head and listened to what Dumbledore was speaking.

"-_this ability of yours - to detect Voldemort's presence, even when he is disguised, and to know what he is feeling when his emotions are roused - has become more and more pronounced since Voldemort returned to his own body and his full powers. More recently, I became concerned that Voldemort might realize that this connection between you exists. Sure enough, there came a time when you entered so far into his mind and thoughts that he sensed your presence. I am speaking, of course, of the night when you witnessed the attack on Mr. Weasley"_

_"Yeah, Snape told me,"_ Harry muttered.

_"Professor Snape, Harry."_ Dumbledore corrected and Sirius raised an eyebrow in amusement at Dumbledore's determination. It was a lost cause trying to build any kind of respect between them and rightfully so... _"But did you not wonder why it was not I who explained this to you? Why I did not teach you Occlumency? Why I had not so much as looked at you for months?"_

Harry raised his head and Sirius saw a trace of hurt flash across his eyes. He had seen it before, hidden behind his anger and frustration, when Harry had discussed the old Headmaster. Sirius had never brought it up in Harry's presence but now Sirius realised that he hadn't been annoyed at the man's determination to not involve him in the Order, but hurt that Dumbledore didn't care about him or respect his abilities. Sirius felt the urge to shake his head. If Harry could listen, Sirius would have told him that longing for respect never disappeared with age: It was the same hurt that Sirius had felt when Dumbledore had tried to keep him from partaking in the Order in favour of remaining at Headquarters. Sirius had only begun to realise how close the two must have gotten in the years since Harry arrived at Hogwarts. There was traces of it when he had seen them together, of course; how comfortable Harry was around him, or the fact that Dumbledore referred to him by his first name, which he done with no other student. Sirius had only really forged any kind of relationship with Dumbledore after he had left school. Whilst a student, Dumbledore had always remained professional and distant no matter how often he and James came into contact with him during their many misdeeds. He knew for one thing; Sirius Black would have never been comfortable enough with the Headmaster to demolish his office when he was fifteen.

_"You see,"_ Dumbledore continued, _"I believed it could not be long before Voldemort attempted to force his way into your mind, to manipulate and misdirect your thoughts, and I was not eager to give him more incentives to do so. I was sure that if he realized that our relationship was - or had ever been - closer than that of headmaster and pupil, he would seize his chance to use you as a means to spy on me. I feared the uses to which he would put you, the possibility that he might try and possess you. Harry, I believe I was right to think that Voldemort would have made use of you in such a way. On those rare occasions when we had close contact, I thought I saw a shadow of him stir behind your eyes. Voldemort's aim in possessing you, as he demonstrated tonight, would not have been my destruction. It would have been yours. He hoped, when he possessed you briefly a short while ago, that I would sacrifice you in the hope of killing him. So you see, I have been trying, in distancing myself from you, to protect you, Harry. An old man's mistake."_

"Coward." Sirius whispered under his breath, disgusted at the lengths Voldemort would go to, to kill his godson when he had failed himself.

Remus nodded softly. "This is why you did not want Harry to know too much about the Order."

It wasn't a question yet Dumbledore nodded in agreement. They knew of this, now. After Sirius had pushed Dumbledore as to why it had to be Snape that taught Harry Occlumency, he explained why he had wanted to keep Harry in the dark and why he had been avoiding him. He felt discomfort stirring in his gut again as he thought about what he had almost gave away on Harry's first night at Headquarters. Sirius was torn. He hated the thought of Harry knowing the truth, even if he had the right to know. Every time he thought about the prophecy, all he could remember was the deadened look in James' eyes after he had heard the full contents. But more than anything, he hated lying to his godson. He never had before and it was what had brought them closer over the last few years. Sirius had ignored Dumbledore's orders and almost put his godson at risk because of it. If only Dumbledore had explained more.

"If you knew there was a chance of this, why not teach him earlier?" Sirius asked with a hint of anger, only now realising that Dumbledore had feared this since Voldemort's return. He had never thought to ask before. Now, he wanted every answer, every truth to avoid this from happening again. "Why not tell us sooner?"

Dumbledore sighed. "As Severus has said, Occlumency is no easy skill to learn. It requires the mind to be attacked repeatedly; it is why so few can master it. There was the chance that it would weaken his mind so much so that Voldemort would have discovered their connection sooner. I did not want Harry to have to deal with that until it was necessary. I had hoped that Voldemort would not have discovered this ability. I was wrong." He sighed again. "As to why I did not confide in you, my concerns, I feared that there would be those who would have treated him differently had they known the truth. I did not want to alarm you without cause."

"You think I would have treated my own godson different because of this connection?" Sirius asked indignantly. "I would never treat him differently because of something he cannot control."

"Yes," Dumbledore appeased him. "I know that Sirius, but it seems that not only the Order have been receiving information."

"You were worried his friends wouldn't understand it." Remus said quietly. "Or that Harry would get a garbled version of events, the very thing we were trying to avoid." He finished with a small laugh.

Dumbledore nodded again. "I have already confessed that I was mistaken in not being open with him from the beginning. And yet again, Harry and yourself Sirius are to suffer for my misjudgement. Hindsight is such a wonderful thing." He said airily yet Sirius could see the sadness in his eyes.

"You weren't the only one, Albus." Remus said calmly. "None of us were open with him."

Sirius coughed loudly. "I believe I wanted to tell him the truth from the beginning."

Remus raised his eyebrows. "Then why didn't you? You've had plenty of chances."

"Rules are rules, right?" Sirius said with a quick glance at Dumbledore. Remus shook his head lightly.

"The Sirius Black I know does not care for the rules." Remus said with a small smile. "No one could stop you from doing what you think is right. If you really wanted him to know, you would have told him by now."

Sirius rolled his eyes in response but he couldn't disagree with that, not that he would ever admit it. "Oh shut up, Remus."

Remus smirked in response and for the first time that night, Sirius felt a genuine smile grace his lips, despite the situation. It had been, after all, a very strange night.

_"__But I didn't. I didn't practice, I didn't bother, I could've stopped myself having those dreams. Hermione kept telling me to do it, if I had he'd never have been able to show me where to go, and - Sirius wouldn't - Sirius wouldn't"_

Snape looked at Sirius pointedly and he took a moment to play what Harry had just spoken through his mind. When he realised what had been said he scowled and looked away. Harry had been told time and time again how important it was for him to learn Occlumency but he couldn't blame him for not realising the gravity of the situation. At his age, Sirius probably would have rebelled just to prove a point. Then again, his school life had been a breeze compared to Harry's.

_"__I tried to check he'd really taken Sirius, I went to Umbridge's office, I spoke to Kreacher in the fire and he said Sirius wasn't there, he said he'd gone!"_

Sirius' heart stopped. "He thought I'd been-"

Remus looked at him in shock and Dumbledore bowed his head. Sirius shook his head and focused on the memory with rapt attention. He needed to know what had happened. Sirius knew he hadn't been captured; he couldn't have been, not when he had arrived with the Order.

"_Kreacher lied,"_ said Dumbledore calmly. "_You are not his master, he could lie to you without even needing to punish himself. Kreacher intended you to go to the Ministry of Magic."_

_"__He - he sent me on purpose?"_

_"__Oh yes. Kreacher, I am afraid, has been serving more than one master for months.__Kreacher seized his opportunity shortly before Christmas," said Dumbledore, "when Sirius, apparently, shouted at him to 'get out'. He took Sirius at his word, and interpreted this as an order to leave the house. He went to the only Black family member for whom he had any respect left… Sirius' cousin Narcissa, sister of Bellatrix and wife of Lucius Malfoy"_

"That evil little cockroach..." Sirius breathed, anger building in his chest.

"Sirius..." Remus said no more. He looked like he was struggling for words and a range of emotions played over his prematurely lined face, as if he couldn't decide what to feel.

_"__Kreacher told me last night,"_ said Dumbledore. _"You see, when you gave Professor Snape that cryptic warning, he realized that you had had a vision of Sirius trapped in the bowels of the Department of Mysteries. He, like you, attempted to contact Sirius at once. I should explain that members of the Order of the Phoenix have more reliable methods of communicating than the fire in Dolores Umbridge's office. Professor Snape found that Sirius was alive and safe in Grimmauld Place. When, however, you did not return from your trip into the Forest with Dolores Umbridge, Professor Snape grew worried that you still believed Sirius to be a captive of Lord Voldemort's. He alerted certain Order members at once."_

"You are welcome." Snape said smugly. Sirius looked at him coldly in response. He was too angry to speak. He wanted to rip the elf limb from limb. He had betrayed them all, risked Harry's life all in memory of his dead mother. Sirius felt real rage build in him until he couldn't see and was breathing like he had just run a mile.

"Sirius." Dumbledore said in warning.

"I'll kill him – So help me, I'LL KILL HIM." Sirius said brokenly. "I WANT OUT!" He continued, looking upwards as if Albert could have heard him and release him from the Pensieve. "LET ME OUT OF HERE!"

"Sirius, calm yourself." Dumbledore said soothingly and he felt Remus put a restraining hand on his arm.

"No!" Sirius spat, shrugging off Remus' hand. "That twisted evil little shit nearly got my godson killed, Dumbledore. I will not calm down!"

"Sirius!" Remus said sharply, grabbing the front of his robes. "We'll deal with this later. Not now...please, don't do anything you'll regret." Sirius wanted to argue but as he looked into the amber eyes of his friend, he saw the burning fury he was trying to restrain.

"Please." He repeated. With great difficulty, Sirius took a deep breath and tried to calm his racing heart. He nodded once but his body was still tense and his hands were still clenched until his nails dug into his palms. He could feel his face twitching every so often in anger yet he was able to think clearly again. He could wait. He spent thirteen years waiting for his chance when Peter betrayed them all. He could wait for this too.

"_He was laughing?" _Sirius heart clenched at that. He didn't know why he was surprised.

_"Oh yes. You see, Kreacher was not able to betray us totally. He is not Secret Keeper for the Order, he could not give the Malfoys our whereabouts, or tell them any of the Order's confidential plans that he had been forbidden to reveal. He was bound by the enchantments of his kind, which is to say that he could not disobey a direct order from his master, Sirius. But he gave Narcissa information of the sort that is very valuable to Voldemort, yet must have seemed much too trivial for Sirius to think of banning him from repeating it."_

_"__Like what?" _said Harry.

_"Like the fact that the person Sirius cared most about in the world was you,"_ said Dumbledore quietly. "_Like the fact that you were coming to regard Sirius as a mixture of father and brother. Voldemort knew already, of course, that Sirius was in the Order, and that you knew where he was - but Kreacher's information made him realize that the one person for whom you would go to any lengths to rescue was Sirius Black."_

Sirius felt his heart contracting again. He felt hot tears prickling at the corner of his eyes. "Why?" Sirius whispered, his voice catching. "Why didn't he use the mirror?"

Remus looked at him sadly. "Maybe he didn't open it."

"Why wouldn't he? I told him that if he needed me that he could use it, that I would help him!"

But Sirius knew the reason why Harry hadn't used the mirror, why he didn't even bother open it. He was afraid Sirius would have went to Hogwarts if Harry had complained about how Snape or Umbridge had been treating him, he was afraid he would get himself killed or captured. And Sirius would have. If Harry had needed him, Sirius would have went straight to him not caring about his own safety, never caring that his death would have affected Harry the way it had. For the first time that night, Sirius was angry at Harry and from the look on Remus' face, he knew it.

"Don't look at me like that!" Sirius snapped at him. "It's not his responsibility to keep me tucked away safe! I'm meant to be protecting him! If he had just listened to me none of this would have happened!"

"I'm going to pretend you didn't just say that." Remus said calmly yet there was a cold look in his eyes. Sirius blinked in surprise at his own words.

"I didn't mean-I don't..."

"You never think, Sirius." Remus said sadly. "When you get like this, you just act, never realising what the consequences could be. Harry knows you. He loves you. Can you really blame him for not wanting you to get hurt?"

Sirius and Remus looked at each other for long moments and it was as if an invisible beam of understanding had passed between them. After some time, Sirius shook his head in response and felt the some of the anger drain out of him.

"DON'T TALK ABOUT SIRIUS LIKE THAT!" Sirius snapped towards Harry in confusion, not realising what he had missed.

"I was trying to explain Kreacher's betrayal." Said Dumbledore, as if he had known what Sirius had been thinking. "I don't believe Harry took too kindly to it."

Sirius opened his mouth to respond but Harry was speaking again and he was torn between watching the memory and the need to justify his tense relationship with his mother's mad house-elf. He settled for listening to Harry.

_"__What about Snape?"_ Harry spat. "_You're not talking about him, are you? When I told him Voldemort had Sirius he just sneered at me as usual –"_

"_Harry, you know Professor Snape had no choice but to pretend not to take you seriously in front of Dolores Umbridge, but as I have explained, he informed the Order as soon as possible about what you had said. It was he who deduced where you had gone when you did not return from the Forest. It was he, too, who gave Professor Umbridge fake Veritaserum when she was attempting to force you to tell her Sirius's whereabouts."_

"The very reason he is unfit for the Order." Snape said quietly, an ugly look crossing his face.

"Meaning?" Sirius barked in return.

Snape turned to him. "Potter has no concept of the risks we taking to protect him. He is too selfish to understand the positions we must place ourselves for the Order. If he did indeed give some warning in the presence of Delores Umbridge then I was forced to do nothing for his own...safety. Did he truly expect that I would pat him on the head and tell him not to worry? He is a child, with the mind of a child. I would fear for the Order if we had someone so idiotic in our midst. Even you, Black...would have understood the difference." He stopped speaking enough to hear Harry say: _"__Snape goaded Sirius about staying in the house - he made out Sirius was a coward."_

"Oh," Snape continued, looking back at Sirius. "How very touching. I never realised I had so much influence over you, Black."

"You flatter yourself, Snape!" Sirius hissed in response.

_"__Snape made it worse, my scar always hurt worse after lessons with him- how do you know he wasn't trying to soften me up for Voldemort, make it easier for him to get inside my –"_

Snape made a derisive sound in the back of his throat but there was a part of Sirius that agreed with Harry. As long as he lived, Sirius Black would never trust that man.

_"__I trust Severus Snape, but I forgot - another old man's mistake - that some wounds run too deep for the healing. I thought Professor Snape could overcome his feelings about your father - I was wrong."_

"You honestly believed that Dumbledore?" Sirius asked in disbelief. Dumbledore looked at him calmly and nodded.

"I had every reason to believe it, Sirius." Dumbledore said steadily, with a pointed look in Severus' direction. "After all, Severus managed to put aside his feelings for James during Harry's first year."

"What?" Sirius asked roughly.

"He saved his life." Dumbledore responded simply. "I had hoped that when it was imperative, as Harry learning Occlumency was, you would have realised what was important, Severus."

Dumbledore cast a disappointed look in his direction and something akin to shame flashed across Snape's face. "And what of my privacy, Albus, is that not important?"

"Of course, it is." Dumbledore said truthfully. "I would be in full agreement with you had you felt the need to punish Harry for his misdeed but by discontinuing his lessons you put him at great risk. As you rightfully said, Severus, we must all place ourselves in positions we may not like for the sake of this war."

"Harry wasn't impressed." Remus said suddenly and Sirius turned his gaze on his friend in confusion. "With what he saw, he wasn't impressed. He spoke to us it about it."

Sirius had no idea why Remus was telling Snape this but instead of responding, Snape simply narrowed his eyes in his direction before he turned away again.

"_SO SIRIUS GOT WHAT HE DESERVED, DID HE?"_ Yelled Harry and Sirius blinked in surprise.

_"__I did not say that, nor will you ever hear me say it_," Dumbledore said quietly. _"Sirius was not a cruel man, he was kind to house-elves in general. He had no love for Kreacher, because Kreacher was a living reminder of the home Sirius had hated."_

And with those words, Sirius felt the rage that had subsided return to full force. He felt cornered and bullied for his treatment of that _thing. _All along, no one ever realising that Kreacher had treated him just as badly.

"If he is to be treated like any other human, then shouldn't he be held responsible for his actions?" Sirius asked with false calm. "He has made it no easier for me than I have for him."

"Kreacher and less specifically, house-elves are not humans, Sirius." Dumbledore said kindly. "They do not behave nor think like humans and yet they respond to kindness just as we do. I truly believe that if you treated Kreacher with some form of sympathy or understanding, you would see a difference in his behaviour. Please understand me, Sirius." He continued with the look on Sirius' face. "I do not mean to criticise you. I do understand why you dislike Kreacher so much and I do not blame you for it. Forgive me for being blunt, I do not wish to bring back painful memories for you but I believe you are equating Kreacher's treatment of you with your family's. He is simply behaving the way he was expected to when your mother and father were alive. If you took the time to make him see another option, I do think you would see an improvement."

Sirius gritted his teeth. He could see where the old man was coming from but he doubted he could ever dredge up an ounce of sympathy for that elf. Instead of voicing this, he simply muttered: "Maybe."

Dumbledore smiled slightly in response as if he knew what Sirius was thinking. Sirius shook his head ruefully and took an explosive breath, trying to force away his anger the best he could. He wasn't sure he would be able to contain it so easily when he came in contact with Kreacher but he would deal with that when he it came to it.

_"You made him stay shut up in that house and he hated it, that's why he wanted to get out last night."_ Harry's voice cut across his thoughts and Sirius felt his jaw snap open. He turned to Remus in shock.

"He doesn't honestly believe that, does he?" Sirius asked quietly. "He must know that I would have followed him no matter where I was?"

Remus didn't answer.

"_People don't like being locked up!" _Harry rounded on him with such menace that for the first time that night, Sirius believed Harry could have attacked him. _"You did it to me all last summer!"_

Sirius nodded in agreement, although he felt some guilt at knowing that if it kept Harry alive, he would have kept him locked up. He knew it was hypocritical of him. Remus shook his head at him and nodded in the direction of Dumbledore who had buried his face in his hands. Sirius turned to the real Dumbledore who stood at his side but he stood firm, calm, unyielding as ever. It was like seeing two different people.

Snape made another disgusted sound in the back of his throat. "How your troubles woe me," he said with sneer. "How truly difficult it must be to face boredom day in and day out. And I thought my role in this war was troubling."

"Severus." Dumbledore said quietly but it was enough to make Snape fall silent.

_"__It is time,"_ Dumbledore spoke again, _"for me to tell you what I should have told you five years ago, Harry. Please sit down. I am going to tell you everything. I ask only a little patience. You will have your chance to rage at me - to do whatever you like - when I have finished. I will not stop you."_

Sirius spun towards Dumbledore. "Now? You're going to tell him now?"

Dumbledore closed his eyes. "I have kept it from him for too long, Sirius."

The memory of Dumbledore stared for a moment at the sunlit grounds outside the window and Sirius followed suit, his mind racing. If he was honest with himself he wanted to know what the prophecy contained, he had wanted to know since the time it had been made but something inside him squirmed in apprehension. If only he could remove the image of James' face and Lily's bloodshot eyes from his mind.

His gaze fell on Snape. His gut was screaming at him to kick him out so he could not hear the contents but he knew any argument would on fallen on deaf ears. All he could do was pray to the heavens that whoever had sent back these memories knew what they were doing. If it were some sort of trick - and after seeing his own murder, a small part of him hoped it was - then there was no risk. Dumbledore was the only one with the knowledge and any false prophecy would have differed to the original. The memory of Dumbledore began speaking again and everyone in the room was listening with rapt attention, except the real Dumbledore, who still had his eyes closed.

_"Five years ago you arrived at Hogwarts, Harry, safe and whole, as I had planned and intended. Well - not quite whole. You had suffered. I knew you would when I left you on your aunt and uncle's doorstep. I knew I was condemning you to ten dark and difficult years. You might ask - and with good reason - why it had to be so. Why could some wizarding family not have taken you in? Many would have done so more than gladly, would have been honoured and delighted to raise you as a son._ _My answer is that my priority was to keep you alive. You were in more danger than perhaps anyone but I realized. Voldemort had been vanquished hours before, but his supporters - and many of them are almost as terrible as he - were still at large, angry, desperate and violent.__And I had to make my decision, too, with regard to the years ahead. Did I believe that Voldemort was gone forever? No. I knew not whether it would be ten, twenty or fifty years before he returned, but I was sure he would do so, and I was sure, too, knowing him as I have done, that he would not rest until he killed you. I knew that Voldemort's knowledge of magic is perhaps more extensive than any wizard alive. I knew that even my most complex and powerful protective spells and charms were unlikely to be invincible if he ever returned to full power.__But I knew, too, where Voldemort was weak. And so I made my decision. You would be protected by an ancient magic of which he knows, which he despises, and which he has always, therefore, underestimated - to his cost. I am speaking, of course, of the fact that your mother died to save you. She gave you a lingering protection he never expected, a protection that flows in your veins to this day. I put my trust, therefore, in your mother's blood. I delivered you to her sister, her only remaining relative."_

Sirius mind was reeling. "I knew that," he whispered. "I knew how much danger Harry was in. I knew you would find a way to keep him safe. That's why I allowed Hagrid to take him from me that night." His voice cracked slightly towards the end. That had been one of the hardest things he ever had to do, especially after he had just lost James and Lily. "That's what Voldemort meant about not being able to touch him, about having to find other means?"

"What?" Remus asked in confusion.

"After the third task, when Harry told us what had happened. He said that Voldemort couldn't touch him whilst he was at his relatives." Sirius explained quickly before he turned back to Dumbledore, whose eyes were still shut. "Do you think he tried to get past the blood wards - that he failed to gain access?"

"I believe so." Dumbledore said simply. "I think I am correct in saying that Voldemort has tried every means possible to get close to Harry over the years. I believe he tried his luck with Harry's home when he returned to this country for a brief period of time before Harry came to Hogwarts. I doubt he made any real attempt, he was weakened at the time and he would not have wanted to alert me to his presence. But he stayed long enough to know then that the wards could not be penetrated."

"That's why you've kept him there even though he hated it?" asked Remus.

Dumbledore nodded again. "But not without a cost, Remus."

"You saved his life." Sirius said softly. He had hated the thought of sending Harry to Lily's sister. He knew that Harry would never had been accepted there, never loved but at the time he cared only for his safety. How was he ever meant to keep him safe against Voldemort's followers, even if he hadn't been a suspected by the Order? He had simply trusted that it was the best decision and in a way it was, it had kept him alive all these years. But something was still churning inside him, telling him that the ends didn't justify the means. Not if Harry had suffered even an ounce of the cruelty Sirius had received from his own family. "I need to know, Dumbledore." Sirius heard himself speak through numbed lips. "Had I come to you instead of-of following Peter, would you have listened to me?"

Dumbledore sighed softly and lowered his head. "Yes, I would have, Sirius."

"And-even though it would have been safer for him to live with his aunt and uncle, would you have let me keep him?" Dumbledore lifted his head and when he finally looked at Sirius; his eyes were dull and sad. "The truth, Dumbledore."

"I would not have had the heart to tear you two apart, Sirius." Dumbledore said simply. "Yes, I would have found another way. Even if it meant Harry had to grow up with all this."

"But it was acceptable for him to grow up with a family who would never love him?" Sirius said harshly, trying to starve off the feeling of guilt that had risen in his chest. So many mistakes...

"Not acceptable, Sirius...necessary." Dumbledore said steadily. "In my position I have had the misfortune of dealing with children from every type of home and I have witnessed the damage it can cause when one is raised in an unloving environment. Tom Riddle, himself was raised in an orphanage where he was never given any form of comfort in his youth. And we can see what that has led to. Surely, that is testament to how grave Harry's situation was at the time, that I would even think to risk it. It was not an easy decision to make, Sirius and there have been many times I have regretted it since that night but if I had not acted the decision would have been taken from me and it would have cost Harry his life."

"What do you mean?" Sirius asked quietly, half listening to the memory to make sure he did not miss anything of importance. Dumbledore sighed again and stared out at the grounds for a moment before he began speaking.

"The Ministry, as you can imagine, were very vocal in their discontent at having Harry taken from the wizarding world. They wished to place him with a respectable wizarding family and have him grow up in the eye of the public. It was only my influence within the Ministry and the fact that he was sent with his only living relatives, which prevented them from taking Harry's care into their own hands. Had this occurred, when we know many of the respectable wizarding families had been connected to Dark Arts at the time, I fear that Voldemort's many supporters would have located him and attempted to kill him out of revenge or belief that it would have returned their master to full power. If Harry had been lucky to survive that then, as I have said, when Voldemort returned to power – and I knew he would – he would have breeched any protective spells that had been placed around him. If he had been blessed and placed with a loving family then I fear Harry would have suffered their loss as well. Voldemort would not have hesitated to kill any who would have stood in his way."

Dumbledore's voice trailed off until his counterpart was the only one that was heard, leaving everyone contemplating the weight of his words.

"_- You rose magnificently to the challenge that faced you and sooner - much sooner - than I had anticipated, you found yourself face to face with Voldemort. You survived again. You did more. You delayed his return to full power and strength. You fought a man's fight. I was… prouder of you than I can say."_

Sirius smiled slightly. He had heard what Harry had done from Dumbledore the year before when they had been in contact and he too was prouder than he could voice. Sirius would have like to think that if he had been in that situation at eleven he would have acted the same but he doubted any one of the Marauders would have had that courage at such a young age.

"_Yet there was a flaw in this wonderful plan of mine,"_ continued Dumbledore. _"An obvious flaw that I knew, even then, might be the undoing of it all. And yet, knowing how important it was that my plan should succeed, I told myself that I would not permit this flaw to ruin it. I alone could prevent this, so I alone must be strong. And here was my first test, as you lay in the hospital wing, weak from your struggle with Voldemort."_

_"__I don't understand what you're saying,"_ said Harry.

_"__Don't you remember asking me, as you lay in the hospital wing, why Voldemort had tried to kill you when you were a baby_? _Ought I to have told you then?"_

Sirius pushed any thought of Harry's home life from his mind and focused on Dumbledore's words. He knew he was referring to the prophecy and yet, the one thing he could never understand was why Dumbledore had never told Harry the contents. He had thought of it every way he could, had asked many a time and had always received vague answers in response (which annoyed him to great ends) but could never truly comprehend the man's motives. He had come to the conclusion that Dumbledore thought him, like Molly, a child incapable of handling the truth. He was risking too much in not telling Harry, and no matter how callous it sounded, sacrifices had to be made for the Order, for the sake of the innocent lives at stake. Dumbledore was not emotionally involved to any great length, Harry was his student and he cared about his safety, naturally but he was not a parent trying to shield their child from the awful truth, or a godfather torn between his knowing the truth and his happiness. He was their leader who had made harsher decisions when it came to the war in the past. There were times in life when things were black and white – that, Sirius understood.

_"__You do not see the flaw in the plan yet? No… perhaps not. Well, as you know, I decided not to answer you. Eleven, I told myself, was much too young to know. I had never intended to tell you when you were eleven. The knowledge would be too much at such a young age. I should have recognized the danger signs then. I should have asked myself why I did not feel more disturbed that you had already asked me the question to which I knew, one day, I must give a terrible answer. I should have recognized that I was too happy to think that I did not have to do it on that particular day… YOU were too young, much too young. And so we entered your second year at Hogwarts. And once again you met challenges even grown wizards have never faced: once again you acquitted yourself beyond my wildest dreams. You did not ask me again, however, why Voldemort had left that mark on you. We discussed your scar, oh yes… we came very, very close to the subject. Why did I not tell you everything? Well, it seemed to me that twelve was, after all, hardly better than eleven to receive such information. I allowed you to leave my presence, bloodstained, exhausted but exhilarated, and if I felt a twinge of unease that I ought, perhaps, to have told you then, it was swiftly silenced. You were still so young, you see, and I could not find it in myself to spoil that night of triumph…Do you see, Harry? Do you see the flaw in my brilliant plan now? I had fallen into the trap I had foreseen, that I had told myself I could avoid, that I must avoid."_

Sirius' brow furrowed in confusion. He had no idea where the barmy old man was going with this. He knew this plan referred to his godson, him being the 'one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord.' He could understand that, if the prophecy had been fulfilled then Harry could save thousands of lives, even if the thought churned his stomach. He hated the thought that any plan revolved around his godson but the younger part of himself, who had not been a godfather yet could understand completely. Even now, if it had been any other child, Sirius would not have been as concerned about their safety as he was with Harry's.

"_I cared about you too much,"_ said Dumbledore simply. _"I cared more for your happiness than your knowing the truth, more for your peace of mind than my plan, more for your life than the lives that might be lost if the plan failed. In other words, I acted exactly as Voldemort expects we fools who love to act. Is there a defence? I defy anyone who has watched you as I have - and I have watched you more closely than you can have imagined__, __not to want to save you more pain than you had already suffered. What did I care if numbers of nameless and faceless people and creatures were slaughtered in the vague future, if in the here and now you were alive, and well, and happy? I never dreamed that I would have such a person on my hands."_

All eyes turned to Dumbledore in shock or in Snape's case something close to resentment. Sirius had to stifle the mad desire to laugh. He couldn't help it even if he knew the situation was far from funny. Here he was, Albus Dumbledore, the greatest wizard of the age, the greatest Headmaster ever known, their leader and the only one Voldemort ever feared and he was willing to throw it all away to make Harry smile. If he hadn't known Dumbledore for so long, known how much he hid behind that calm facade of his, he would have argued that he never spoke of Harry any differently than he did of anyone else. But he could never read the old man and he had distanced himself so much from Harry the past year that the thought had never entered his mind. Sirius shook his head.

"This was never about treating him like a child." Said Sirius. "It wouldn't have mattered if Harry was fifteen or fifty, you wouldn't have wanted to hurt him with this knowledge."

"No, I would not." Dumbledore responded but his voice was detached as if he had shut himself away. "But in the end I have let myself care too much and had this situation not have presented itself, it would have cost you your life, Sirius. I have forgotten my place in this war."

"You can't control who you care about, Albus." Remus said kindly. "You're entitled to your feelings whether you're our leader or not. No one can condemn you for that."

"We all care about Harry." Sirius said simply, still biting his lip against the laughter that was threatening to burst forth. Remus obviously noticed because he shot an annoyed look in his direction.

"I don't." Snape said silkily.

"Do shut up, Snape." Sirius responded dryly. "You're ruining a touching moment."

Remus sighed but when Dumbledore finally turned his gaze on Sirius, he realised the twinkle that was so often present had returned to his blue eyes. He hadn't realised that it had gone out since they had witnessed his death. Sirius smiled in response. There was still a trace of anger there towards the old man but somehow he felt like he understood Albus Dumbledore a little better. He had acted the same way Sirius had. He couldn't hate the man for wanting to protect Harry's innocence for a little longer although, if he was honest with himself, he was a little jealous at their relationship. Dumbledore had been in his life longer than Sirius had. And Dumbledore had done more for Harry than Sirius ever could.

_"__Voldemort tried to kill you when you were a child because of a prophecy made shortly before your birth. He knew the prophecy had been made, though he did not know its full contents. He set out to kill you when you were still a baby, believing he was fulfilling the terms of the prophecy. He discovered, to his cost, that he was mistaken, when the curse intended to kill you backfired. And so, since his return to his body, and particularly since your extraordinary escape from him last year, he has been determined to hear that prophecy in its entirety. This is the weapon he has been seeking so assiduously since his return: the knowledge of how to destroy you."_

The sombre mood returned with those words and they remembered why they were there and what was coming.

_"__The prophecy's smashed,"_ Harry said. _"I was pulling Neville up those benches in the - the room where the archway was, and I ripped his robes and it fell…"_

"If there wasn't so much risk to Harry, I would have suggested we sneak Harry in and destroyed the blasted thing once and for all." Sirius said roughly. No one responded. They had played around with the idea before yet they knew no one but Harry or Voldemort could laid a hand on it and no matter how much easier it would have been if it was destroyed, it was a risk no one was willing to take.

_"__The thing that smashed was merely the record of the prophecy kept by the Department of Mysteries. But the prophecy was made to somebody, and that person has the means of recalling it perfectly"_

"_Who heard it?"_ asked Harry, in that deadened voice he had adopted since they had arrived in the Headmaster's office. He had never realised how jovial his voice had sounded before all of this happened and he would give anything for Harry to sound that way again or even look like he cared about anything anymore.

_"__I did,"_ said Dumbledore. _"On a cold, wet night sixteen years ago, in a room above the bar at the Hog's Head inn. I had gone there to see an applicant for the post of Divination teacher, though it was against my inclination to allow the subject of Divination to continue at all. The applicant, however, was the great-great-granddaughter of a very famous, very gifted Seer and I thought it common politeness to meet her. I was disappointed. It seemed to me that she had not a trace of the gift herself. I told her, courteously I hope, that I did not think she would be suitable for the post. I turned to leave."_

"Sybil." Remus said in response. "I have to say when I learned it was her I was surprised. I've never held much faith in Divination before but I have met true Seers in my time. She was the last person I would have suspected."

"Waste of time that subject if you ask me." Sirius said

Remus laughed. "Sybil, I'm afraid is worse than our old Divination teacher. At least he had fully accepted he had lost his mind."

Dumbledore stood and walked towards them to the black cabinet that stood at behind them. Only when he had bent over the cabinet, busying himself with removing the very Pensieve that they now stood in, did Sirius see the pained expression that he had hid from Harry. If Sirius hadn't understood before why Dumbledore had avoided this moment so long, he would have now. He had never seen the man look less inclined to act.

With tentative breaths, Sirius watched as Dumbledore placed the memory in the bowl, sat down behind the desk and prodded the liquid with the tip of his wand. Sirius closed his eyes and waited for the worst.

"You alright?" Remus soft voice reached his ears. Sirius only nodded in response. "Good...because now might be a good time to tell you what you missed earlier." Sirius opened his eyes. "Kreacher injured Buckbeak to distract you."

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><p><strong>AN:** Mwahahaha, that was evil of me to leave it there but it was getting too long and it felt like a good place to leave it. It's actually really tough to do this memory thing because time doesnt stop so there isnt always enough time to put in reactions or conversations. I know there is timing issues, where the real characters talk longer than the memory does, where it ends suddenly and then picks up once they stop talking. I did my best to deal with the timing...but humour me, imagine they talk really fast...or there was a lot more pauses than JK Rowling wrote. :P

I just wanted to say here that it annoys me a great deal seeing fics where Sirius is the one who hates Dumbledore. He is annoyed at him for keeping him in Grimmauld Place but he still respects him and trusts him, otherwise he wouldn't have went straight to him to divulge what Harry confessed after Mr Weasley's attack. To have him blame Dumbledore for every little thing that goes wrong is OOC and impetuous. Sirius gets angry, yes but I think he takes the blame for things himself. He's kind of his own worst enemy, every time he finds an ounce of happiness he drags himself back down. What's that phrase? "No one can make you feel inferior without your consent" He would never take what Molly and Snape says to heart if he didn't believe it himself.

Now, I don't think what Snape said was very nice but I kind of agree with him. Harry was at fault in OotP. He was told that Voldemort would try and implant false images into his head but instead of try and learn Occlumency, he doesn't bother. He wasn't even going to check that Sirius had been captured until Hermione begged him to. He didn't act like an adult in Ootp, it was actually the first time I saw him act like a child in the whole series. Understandable, yes but not mature at all. And neither was Sirius. A lot of people were at fault in this book as in life. It doesn't make them bad people just realistic. Dumbledore made mistakes in this book but actually everything he was trying to prevent came true, he just didn't go about it the right way. And the reason he didn't was because he was trying to let Harry have a normal life for as long as possible...yes, he is truly evil...

Sirius needed to stay hidden, look what happened when he went to the train station with Harry. And might I remind everyone that Sirius stayed in that house himself, he grumbled about it but he didn't go out because he knew that it was right. He also clearly didn't want Harry to know everything because he had a thousand chances to do it but he never did. I believe he actually said "never you mind" when Ron asked what the Order was guarding. Dumbledore didn't force Sirius to stay in that house nor did he force him from keeping things from Harry. For one, it takes away from Sirius' character...as I said, no one can force Sirius Black to do something he didn't want to do. Not if he disagreed with it wholeheartedly.

Oh, I do rant too much. :(

X X


	9. Chapter 9

**N/B:** Sorry about the long update, I've had to work a lot lately but here it is. :)

**Disclaimer:** I'm not making money from this...you know the drill :D

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><p><strong>Chapter 9:<strong>

The silence in the room was absolute. Not a sound could be heard, not a whisper. The five men sat in a tense and weighty stillness. Sirius only wished that his thoughts could dim as easily but they remained, whirling around his head without pause or relief; broken images and words ramming together in his mind, churning his stomach with their knowledge.

_Neither can live while the other survives... _

Sirius distantly wondered how much time had passed since the meeting had begun; how long they had spent in the Pensieve. To Sirius, it felt like a lifetime. After the horror and nervous anticipation of the memories they had witnessed, Sirius felt older than his age. He was exhausted. Remus was the first to break the still.

"There is no way that this could be false?" He asked softly, his face pale and drawn. "Perhaps there has been some error?"

Dumbledore shook his head. "No." He replied, speaking as if every word was causing him great discomfort. "The wording was exact, Remus. These memories are truth."

Sirius closed his eyes. Dumbledore's words were the final nail in the coffin. He was meant to die and soon. Remus gave a shuttering breath beside him.

"When?" He asked simply.

"Tomorrow." Said Albert.

"No," Sirius said, rising from his seat to stride back and forth through the kitchen again. He could feel his headache come and go in waves of pain. "No, I do not accept that. I do not accept that at _all."_

But his acceptance or rejection didn't make much difference. The evidence was there before them, twisting and shimmering in the stone bowl, mocking him in its ethereal beauty. He turned away from it.

"This is nonsense." Sirius began in a strangely calm voice. All eyes flickered to him. "I do not believe in fate. Harry has a choice in this. I don't believe for one second that he has to be forced into this war, to murder or be murdered. I will not accept it. If Harry chooses to fight for this cause, to stand with the Order then I will be by his side for as long I can but I will not allow him to think for one second that this decision is not his. He has a choice."

"Yes, he has a choice, Sirius." Dumbledore responded steadily. "Harry has always had a choice in this life and he has chosen to act as he sees fit. No one has forced his hand to do the remarkable things he has done, that decision has been his and his alone. But as long as Voldemort believes that Harry is a risk to his immortality, he will never find peace. Neither can live while the other survives."

"Why must it be him?" Remus interjected loudly. "I'm sorry, Sirius. I know he is not a child but he is still so very young. He has his whole life ahead of him. He is too young now to fight. The Order can defeat him in time. Harry never needs to be involved."

"Maybe Harry wants it to be him." Sirius said softly, surprised himself at the words he spoke. "Voldemort has ruined his life, Remus. He's ruined all our lives. Are you telling me you don't want to kill him for it?"

"I'm not talking about revenge, Sirius." Remus said, shooting to his feet. "I have no doubt in my mind that when Harry is older he will be an incredible wizard but if he believes this prophecy and faces him now, he will die. That is not courage, it is suicide."

"There are things worth dying for-"

"There are things worth living for!" Remus replied coldly. "If we offer him up for slaughter when he cannot defend himself then everything we are fighting for is void. How can you stand there and talk so freely about your own godson's murder?"

"You think this is easy, Remus?" Sirius asked, his eyes narrowing. "You think I want this? I would do anything to keep Harry safe but he will never accept being kept out of this fight. I think what we just saw proves that. If I try to keep him from this, I am denying him from being who he is. Age doesn't matter anymore. It won't stop Voldemort from trying to kill him. Why should it stop Harry from doing what he needs to do?"

"When he is of age, yes." Remus said calmly. "Until that time, that decision should not be his. He deserves a chance to live before he has to face this and if the Order finds some way to finish him first then all the better."

"Harry would never accept that-"

"And who cares?" Snape spoke for the first time since they had left the Pensieve. "You truly believe that your godson can even come close to defeating the Dark Lord? Potter, at best, is a mediocre student. He has escaped death in his previous encounters with the Dark Lord out of sheer luck and the skill of greater wizards than he. If Potter is to be the one we must place our hopes on, then I despair."

"Harry is a much more talented wizard than you give him credit for, Severus." Dumbledore said sadly.

Snape scoffed. "He has done a remarkable job of making me believe otherwise."

"And who asked your opinion, Snape?" Sirius said in a deathly cold voice, leaning on the table towards him, his hands splayed across the hard wood. "If it bothers you so much to be here then please, by all means, crawl back to your cave and hang upside down with the rest of your family. I'm sure we'll get along fine without you."

"You're forgetting, mutt, that I have been asked here." Snape smirked. "Clearly, my opinion is of importance."

"Then I'm starting to seriously question the sanity of whoever brought us together."

"Don't you have some fleas to scratch?"

"Silence." Dumbledore said firmly. "We have more important matters to discuss, yes?"

After a pause, Snape jerked his head in what Sirius assumed was a nod of agreement. Sirius straightened. "I think it's obvious, Dumbledore. If you say these memories are true then we warn Harry that anything he sees is lies...stop him before he goes to the Ministry."

"No." But it was not Dumbledore who spoke, it was Albert. All heads turned to the old muggle. "I'm under strict instruction. You cannot alter the timeline until tomorrow night. After that, you won't have a choice."

"Bollocks to that!" Sirius responded forcibly realising what the man was saying. Remus made some sort of strangled noise in the back of his throat before he found words.

"Do nothing?" He said incredulously. "Allow everything to go as planned? This is madness. Why show us these memories if you, or whoever arranged this, intended Sirius to die anyway?"

Sirius flinched at the reminder. Albert leaned forward, his elbows resting against the dark oak, his fingers laced together in a pose that curiously reminded Sirius of Dumbledore. He was half expecting to see the old brown eyes twinkle but they didn't. They remained cold and hard.

"I never said that." He said roughly, a slight hint of Scottish accent coming forth. "That can be changed but nothing else, you hear me? Nothing else." Albert turned his head and stared at Sirius with such intensity that he felt himself shift on the spot in discomfort. "You can stay behind."

"What?" Sirius asked in annoyance. "Stay here?"

"The choice is yours, naturally." Albert said and there was a twinge of sadness in his voice that Sirius couldn't understand.

"Sirius." Remus interrupted sharply, his face still shockingly pale. "I don't think I need to remind you that you will be murdered tomorrow night."

Sirius waved his hand impatiently. "That doesn't matter because I'm not going to the Ministry and neither is Harry."

"Yes, he is." Albert responded firmly. "I don't know the details but I know it is imperative that these events occur."

Sirius frowned slightly in thought. "Why would...Fudge saw Voldemort." He said in realisation. "He can't deny his return anymore."

"And Harry's mind will be safe from attack." Dumbledore added. "I do not believe that he will attempt to posses him again after Harry was able to force him out. He would not risk it."

Sirius nodded remembering what the memory of Dumbledore had told Harry during their discussion.

"Please tell me we are not talking about allowing this to happen?" Remus asked disbelievingly, his eyes darting between the inhabitants of the kitchen. "Albus, surely you don't agree to this?"

Dumbledore peered at Remus over his half-moon spectacles, a small frown playing between his eyebrows. He looked away quickly and stared at Albert without blinking, their eyes locked together for so long that Sirius was almost convinced they were silently communicating. Eventually Dumbledore replied, his voice heavy and tired. "If it must be so."

"You intend to do nothing?" Snape questioned, a dark eyebrow raised in surprise.

"And if my godson is killed?" Sirius asked in dangerous voice.

Dumbledore closed his eyes. "I have every faith in the Order's abilities. Harry will be safe."

"We all saw Harry survived the battle but what about Sirius?" Remus raised before he turned to Sirius and questioned him directly. "You can't honestly be thinking of going after what you know? You saw yourself murdered Sirius!"

"I don't care, Remus." Sirius said softly. "I won't stay here while my godson is in danger. It's my job to protect him. I'll be more careful now that I know what could happen."

"And if you die anyway, what then?" Remus responded angrily, his amber eyes flashing in the firelight. "You saw what happened to Harry - how his death affected you. What about the people you will leave behind or are you too selfish to care?"

"Selfish?" Sirius spat. "_Selfish?_ How am I being selfish doing what James and Lily wanted me to do? They asked me to look after Harry if anything happened to them. Now is my chance to do that!"

"And at what cost?" Remus said shakily. "Harry doesn't need someone to die for him Sirius, he needs his godfather in his life."

"I will not spend the rest of my life hiding." Sirius returned angrily. "This is one choice I will not regret. I'm going and that's it."

Remus was looking at him as if he had never seen him before. He shook his head in disbelief. "This isn't about your godson. This is about James and Lily. You don't care about Harry."

Sirius recoiled as if he had been hit, his face a mask of blank shock before his anger returned to full force. Without knowing what he was doing, he swung his leg out violently and kicked the chair next to him against the wall where it splintered into pieces.

"HOW DARE YOU SAY THAT?" He roared until he felt as if his throat would tear. "YOU OF ALL PEOPLE KNOW WHAT HARRY MEANS TO ME!"

"Obviously nothing if you are willing to throw your life away!"

"I am a grown man and I am _capable_ of making my own decisions-"

"-with no thought to the people who care about you! To me, that is selfish!"

"Gentlemen, please." Dumbledore said evenly, rising to his feet. "Calm yourselves. This is helping no one."

Remus blinked and his face dropped as if he just realised what he had said. He shifted on the spot and unnecessarily straightened his worn robes, looking anywhere but in Sirius' direction. Sirius was breathing heavily, his heart racing in his chest. He dragged a hand over his face and tried to still his anger. The silence in the room doubled after the explosion. Snape appeared so delighted with the events he looked as if Christmas had come early. Sirius glared at him in annoyance before he turned away and stared at a spot on the wall, not really seeing it.

"Sirius," Dumbledore began softly and Sirius forced himself to face the room again. Remus had seated himself once more and was staring at the table without blinking. "I know this is difficult for you but this meeting is not over. We have been given a chance to change these terrible events. Let us not waste it."

"No." Sirius responded. "I'm not doing another _damn_ thing until I get some answers."

Sirius turned back towards Albert and crossed his arms over his chest. "How do you even know about the magical world? How do you know McGonagall?"

"I've known Minerva longer than you have, lad." Albert said tensely. "Not that it's any of your business but she was once engaged to my older brother. After he died, she was kind enough to check in on me from time to time. She confessed the reason why she had cancelled the wedding and the details of your world. I believe she sent me these memories because there was less risk of them falling into the wrong hands, if you catch my drift? Would you care to know anything else?"

Sirius felt his anger deplete completely, ashamed of himself that he would ask such a personal question. He remembered his reaction when he had heard of his brother's death, despite their tense history.

"I'm sorry for your loss." He mumbled in apology.

Albert smiled slightly, his eyes appearing light brown for the first time that night, and Sirius was overcome with the thought that he seemed familiar to him somehow even though he knew they had never met. Or had they met before? Sirius frowned and was about to ask that very question aloud when Albert tensed visibly and turned away from him, coughing harshly. When the fit subsided, he swiped a hand across his mouth in obvious discomfort.

"Is there anything we can get you Albert?" Dumbledore said solicitously, peering down at him over his glasses.

Albert shook his head. "No, no, I'm fine thank you."

He cleared his voice which had become slightly higher-pitched than his usual deep, rough tone and reached for another vial from the velvet case. "Well, like I said, you have limited time and we have a lot to go through so better make a shift, eh?"

"Not yet." Sirius said again, walking to the cabinet at the back of the room and removing a container with a number of healing potions within. "I have an injured hippogriff to attend to."

"Well, in that case...can I use the loo?" Albert asked, getting to his feet with jerky motions. Sirius blinked in surprise at the sudden change in conversation before he nodded.

"It's up the stairs, second door on the left. Try not to make too much noise or you'll wake my mother." He finished dryly.

Albert left the room quickly, his gait tense and awkward. Remus waited a while, making sure Albert was out of ear-shot before he turned to Dumbledore, who was staring forlornly at the closed door.

"Is he ill?"Remus asked concernedly. Dumbledore frowned slightly and took his seat again.

"He is an old man." He replied simply.

"Right," Sirius began when he realised Dumbledore would say no more on the matter. Avoiding Remus' gaze, he lifted the box in his hands in signal. "I shouldn't be too long."

"Oh yes." Snape responded sardonically. "Do hurry back."

**HPHPHP**

"Easy boy." Sirius said, running a hand down Buckbeak's neck trying to soothe the beast. He reached a hand out towards his wound slowly, his voice low and steady. "I'm not going to hurt you."

Buckbeak squawked in response and snapped his beak in Sirius' direction in warning. Sirius had arrived in his mother's old room to find the hippogriff pacing the small confines agitatedly, his left wing bent awkwardly and his feathers ruffled and stained with blood. It had taken all of Sirius' self control not to call Kreacher to him and feed the miserable little elf to Buckbeak in revenge. It took time but eventually the proud creature allowed him to attend to his injury, a testament to their friendship rather than his particularly crude healing abilities.

"You always were good with magical creatures." Remus' voice reached him from the doorway and Buckbeak lifted his head sharply to peer over Sirius' shoulder. Sirius didn't turn around but the faint yet unmistakable bow from the animal told Sirius that Remus had approached him correctly. "Even as a boy. Moony always felt a connection with you more so than the others."

"Yeah, well." Sirius responded bitterly, smoothing the foul smelling potion into the wound as gently as he could. "Animals don't judge you, do they? All they care about is being treated with a little compassion."

Remus sighed heavily and Sirius could hear his soft footsteps against the wooden floor, telling him he had moved into the room. "I apologise for the way I behaved downstairs. I was angry."

"You don't think I am?" Sirius snapped in returned but forced himself to calm down when Buckbeak squawked again and nudged his shoulder. "I'm so unbelievably furious with this whole damn situation. You still had no right-"

"James and Lily are gone, Sirius. Peter is as good as dead to me. I can't lose you too." Remus interrupted calmly and Sirius felt a twinge of guilt at his outburst downstairs. He had never taken the time to think that beyond the anger there was fear.

"I know things haven't been the same between us for a long time." He continued mildly as if he were discussing the weather rather than their complicated friendship. "I know you blame me for not questioning your guilt." He paused and laughed despondently. "And rightly so..."

Sirius sighed and turned towards the other man, his right hand still stroking Buckbeak's neck in reassurance. "I don't blame you Remus. I didn't trust you either, remember? Had the situation been reversed, I would have believed you guilty. I knew that the second Peter pulled his little stunt on that street. Why do you think I snapped? I knew no one would believe me. The little shit made a clean job of it...and my actions that night didn't make things any easier." Sirius smiled sadly. "It's done now, anyway. All I can do is make up for it."

"Haven't you already?" Remus replied gently. "Any mistakes you have made, you've repaid in full during your imprisonment."

Sirius didn't answer.

"Sirius...I wish you would confide in me." Remus said sadly. "I know you so well and I know, beyond what happened with James and Lily, there is something you are carrying around with you. Perhaps the weight would be a little easier to bear if you confessed it?"

Sirius looked away. "You and I-" Sirius paused, hating the vulnerability he heard in his own voice. He cleared his throat and tried again. "You've always wanted to keep Harry out of this war and I haven't..."

"I believe that he should understand what it is he is giving up." Remus agreed. "And I don't think he does. Who could at his age? I'm not saying he should be closed off from everything but risking his life is too much to ask."

Sirius laughed sadly. "You sound like Lily. I wonder sometimes if she would have preferred you to be his godfather. She never said it but..."

Remus frowned. "What is it you're really asking Sirius?"

Sirius scowled in annoyance. "You know what I'm asking." He said roughly. "Do you think I'm doing right by him?"

"Yes, I do." Remus said quietly, firmly. "Just because we disagree Sirius doesn't mean I doubt your abilities. I think you're doing the best you can. That's all anyone can ask. That's all Harry has ever asked of you."

"I meant what I said earlier," He continued when Sirius didn't respond. "You are one of the few people who can understand what Harry is going through. He needs you and if you won't stay alive for me then, I beg you, do it for him. I, for one, don't ever want to see Harry look like that again."

"For fuck sake Remus," Sirius said harshly, running a frustrated hand through his hair. "I'm not suicidal. If I were going to jump off the ledge I think I would have done it by now."

"I never thought you were but there is an enormous difference between living and surviving." Remus sighed heavily and went to sit on the edge of his mother's bed, avoiding the mass of feathers and bones that were strewn across the worn mattress. "Despite everything I think Harry is the only thing that is keeping you going and you're right...I do know what he means to you."

"Is this where you say 'I didn't mean what I said'?" Sirius asked mockingly. "Because it sure sounded like you did."

"No, I meant it." Remus replied honestly.

"So you agree with Molly?" He asked quietly.

"I never said _that_."

"Then what are you saying, Remus? Spit it out." Sirius said impatiently.

"I believe that you love the idea of Harry rather than Harry himself." Remus said simply, but a look of guilt had passed over his worn features as if he regretted his words even if he meant them. "I think he is your connection to James and Lily."

"I don't understand you, Remus." Sirius said softly but his voice had taken on a hard edge. "You think I'm a good godfather but you doubt my affections towards him?"

"You have always done right by Harry." Remus replied firmly. "I know that you have never said or done anything to make him think that what Molly claimed was true."

Sirius turned away from Remus. The certainty in his voice was too much to bear.

"I understand Sirius." He continued. "I find it hard to look at Harry and not see James. They are so alike. I'm trying to tell you that there is no shame in what you're feeling with regards to him. I know you don't expect Harry to fill the void that James left so you shouldn't feel any guilt. You've barely had any time to get to know each other, time for you to care for him for who he is not just because he is James and Lily's son. Don't ruin any chance you have together for some noble idea of dying for him. That's not what he wants and it is not what James and Lily would have wanted either."

"I don't intend to die, Remus." Sirius whispered softly. "But my absence could change so much. It could risk his life. I can't allow that to happen."

Remus sighed again. "And there is nothing I can say to convince you otherwise?"

"No, nothing." He replied firmly.

To Sirius' surprise, Remus laughed. "Stubborn to the end."

"Absolutely." Sirius said with a grin. A comfortable silence fell between them only broken by the sound of crunching bone as Buckbeak ate, his wing looking almost normal again.

"Do you think that Severus is right?" Remus continued after a moment. "Do you think all this is Harry's doing?"

Sirius ran his hands through his hair before he bent down to pick up his supplies. "I don't know." He said slowly. "I would have said no just to spite Snape but the more I think about it..."

"It does sound like Harry, doesn't it?" Remus finished but Sirius could hear the affection in his tone. "I thought perhaps Hermione at first but she has too much respect for the rules, I think. Harry, on the other hand, is more like his father and godfather in that respect."

Sirius laughed softly. "Very true."

"We better be getting back." Remus said, rising from his seated position stiffly. He sighed heavily and ran a tired hand over his face. "If this is only the beginning, I dread to think what else is coming."

"Me too, Moony." Sirius whispered as he followed his friend out of the room. "Me too."

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><p><strong>NB: **Is it just me or does anyone else think that there was a lot left unsaid between Remus and Sirius? I think their friendship has been tense ever since Sirius sent Snape to the whomping willow and they've just kind of been going through the motions of friendship without ever really talking about it, if you catch my meaning? Either way, its a bit more fun to write their friendship developing then having them best friends from the beginning.

Anyways, review please...thanks for reading. :)


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